


Helping Harry

by mitsukai613



Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types
Genre: Harry's issues, M/M, Moments of angst, Moments of fluff, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-04 20:38:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 55,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsukai613/pseuds/mitsukai613
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcone comes across Harry having a breakdown in the middle of the street (like the one he had in the Blue Beetle) and ends up taking him home with him because no, he is not leaving Harry alone like that. Afterwards, he and Harry work out a contract that Harry will come to him whenever he's feeling that way to avoid the risk of something happening to him when he's vulnerable. Harry comes back sooner than he would've expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First off, apologies for that super cheesy title up there. Secondly, hope you guys enjoy this!

                The rain was falling hard all around me and the blood dripped in thin, watery rivulets down the side of my face. I could hardly see through it and the rain but I didn’t care. I knew these streets; I wouldn’t fall. It didn’t matter. The wind whistled through the sparse trees that decorated this particular street and I could feel my fingertips going a little numb but that didn’t matter either. I just wanted to go home. I wanted to… I was so tired. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to eat. I wanted to be warm. I wanted to hug Mouse and Mister and forget because everything hurt. That was all this cold was good for, too; it made my various injuries go numb. The toe of my boot got caught in a wide, thick crack in the sidewalk and sent me tumbling. The concrete tore the knees of my jeans and scraped my knees raw and suddenly I was crying.

                I didn’t know why. I wasn’t hurt that badly, I was fine. I was fine and Susan was gone and an engagement ring sat lonely on my mantle and my apartment was trashed and I’d gotten nearly killed by something bigger than me for the millionth fucking time and I _hated_ this. I tried to lurch up to my feet but I only managed to crash into the wall beside me and scrape up my cheek even more. I cried harder and I couldn’t see through the blood or the tears or the rain or anything and maybe that was better. Maybe it was better if I couldn’t see, because if I was blind it meant that I would never have to deal with anyone else seeing me this way, anyone else knowing that I was so damned _weak._ Weak and alone and pathetic and worthless and why did that surprise me? I was always alone, always. People tried to be friends with me, they did, people tried to love me, but it was hard for them, I knew that, and I didn’t blame them when they left because I made everything so much harder, so much more complicated, and it was okay that they left me. It was. I didn’t deserve them. Really, it was more of a shock when people stayed.

                I was so tired. I hadn’t been this tired in a long time. I heard cars rumble by on the street periodically, but none of them could’ve possibly seen me leaning there on that wall, and even if they did, they’d have no reason to stop. I was another bloody bum, another train wreck on the side of the road, and that was almost comforting. I’d blended seamlessly into my city, I guessed, and I laughed through the tears and tasted blood on my lips. I wondered what would happen if a vampire, if one of Bianca’s remaining supporters, found me now. I wondered if I’d die. For a second, I wondered if anyone would care and cried harder and thought about how sad my funeral would be. Not because of tears, of course not, but because there weren’t any. Because me being dead would make my friends’ lives so much easier. Because Chicago would be safer without me around to attract all the monsters. I pressed my hands into the brick wall beside me and scraped at it with blunt nails because the sensation was comforting and it made my fingers a little less numb. I don’t know how long I sat there, but it had to have been a while because the blood that wasn’t being hit with the rain was beginning to dry on my skin when I felt the hand land on my shoulder, when I heard that voice.

                “Mr. Dresden? Harry, Harry, is that you? Are you alright, you’re bleeding? Tell me what’s wrong.” Marcone. Of course. Of course it was fucking Marcone because he needed something more to judge me over, didn’t he? He needed something else to hold over me, he needed to be able to call me weak, right? Of course he did, of course he fucking did. I bared my teeth at him like a feral cat, like Mister had to me when I picked him up off the street so many years ago. I hated this. I wished… I just wanted rest. I wanted to curl up and sleep for a year and stop crying because I still hadn’t stopped. Marcone was seeing me cry. I despised the thought, and despised myself for giving him an opportunity like this. He could take me out in a second if he wanted, right now, because I still couldn’t even see the details of his face, much less whether or not he was holding a weapon.

                Instead of a stab, though, or a bullet, I felt fingers. I felt them wipe my eyes. I felt them hold my cheeks. I felt them poke and prod as they sought out the source of my bleeding. I laughed again, laughed until the tears started up harder than before.

                “Leave me alone,” I said, “Go away.” His fingers tensed and I saw the flesh-toned blob of his head shake. He wiped my eyes again.

                “No. What’s wrong, Harry? Are you hurt too badly?” I growled and ripped myself away from him, finally managed to pull myself up to my feet, but he followed me and crowded me into the side of the building. My duster, my clothes, my hair, dripped water like so many faucets. Of course he thought I was hurt. Of course he thought that was the only reason I would ever cry. Of course he thought I was weak enough, delicate enough, to sob like a child over a few little scratches. If I’d considered telling him anything before, I sure as hell didn’t now.

                “I’m fine. I’m always fine. Just leave me alone. I’m going home.” He grabbed my shoulders and held me where I stood and I wanted to scream because I could kill him and he didn’t seem to care, I could kill him and he was treating me like nothing, so I clenched my fists and wished I could just hit him once.

                “I’m not letting you go anywhere by yourself in this condition.”

                “You don’t get a say in it. I can kick your ass.”

                “You can. You also won’t. You’ve been using magic tonight, I feel it on you. Now, I’ve no way of knowing how much you used, but for you to be bleeding like this, I’d guess it was substantial enough that you’re feeling tired.” Once more his fingers wiped my eyes and I finally felt the tears slowing, stopping. The strength I’d gathered in my legs disappeared all of a sudden, all at once, and I’d have collapsed again had his arms not been partially supporting me. As it was, he just lowered me slowly to the ground again with him. “You’re freezing. How long have you been out here?” I swallowed.

                “Not long.” He glared at me, money green eyes bright in the darkness of the night.

                “You’re lying to me.” I finally managed a smile.

                “Who, me? Never.” Why had I been crying anyway? That had been stupid. I had nothing that should be making me sad enough to cry in the middle of the street, or cry at all, for that matter. It’d been silly of me, and dangerous. I watched Marcone pull out a smart silvery phone, watched and heard him make a call to who I assumed was Hendricks, heard him order a car, and then watched him quickly hang it up and tuck it away. Then his arms were around me, then I was burrowed into his chest, and I was crying again. I tried hitting him to get him to let me go, but he wouldn’t. He pulled me tight into him, one of his hands on the center of my back, the other on the back of my head, and he was rocking me like a child. I remembered my father, I remembered being scared of sharp toothed monsters under hotel beds, I remembered him promising me that I was a monster slayer, that I should fear no fanged beasts cowardly enough to hide in shadows. I wished that’d been true, because I was so scared, now, so scared of all the monsters because I was no monster slayer and they weren’t hiding, they were waiting, they were stalking. Hell, half the time I was a monster myself. My fingers clenched in his suit jacket and I had the irrational thought that I was staining it and I finally realized he was talking to me.

                “Hush, hush, it’s alright. I’m here, you’re safe, you’re alright, you’re alive. It’s alright to cry, don’t worry, please, let it out.” I’d been told that before. I’d been told to let it out. I’d ended up getting screwed and controlled and made into a damned puppet for the millionth time and I could not, would not, take that again. I wouldn’t be someone’s puppet, someone’s pet, ever again; most certainly not his. Or maybe I would be. Maybe I’d fall and I’d prove the Merlin right and Morgan would finally get to yell off with my fucking head. Maybe I’d deserve it. The monsters under the bed were getting bigger and the fangs were getting sharper and damn, if you stare into the abyss long enough, it starts to stare back, it starts to change you. I was pretty sure I’d been changed long ago.

                “It hasn’t been okay since I was six years old,” I hiccupped through tears and I felt so stupid, so small, so frail there in his arms, under the rain, and I wanted to push him away but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I felt myself fracturing down the middle, felt everything pouring out of me through the cracks, all my anger, all my fear, all my sadness, and it brought the happiness, the love, with it. I felt empty and I felt cold and I wished I felt something else. I guessed the dreams were too big to fit through those cracks in me. I had a sudden thought that Marcone was trying to be a giant bandage, trying to hold me together, but maybe I should just fall apart. Maybe I should just lie in the street all night and freeze. It’d be a fitting end for someone like me. “Why won’t you leave me alone?” He kept rocking me when he spoke, and there was something almost crooning in his voice.

                “Because you obviously need someone right now, and while I am almost certainly not your first choice, I will remain with you. I will protect you.” And somehow those were the most beautiful words I’d ever heard. Oh, yeah, I’d known what he’d been offering me those years before, knew what that contract he’d shown me would entail. Protection. Safety. Help. Money. The whole damned world right there on a silver platter, all for the price of a single little soul, but I hadn’t wanted it. I wanted it, now. I wanted the rest he was so clearly offering. God help me, I wanted someone who would give me a hug and hold my hand and whisper, “Harry, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay” even if they were lying and that’s what Marcone was giving me now. My sobs turned dry as I ran out of tears and he ran a hand up my shaking, quivering back.

                “I hate you,” I tried, even though I knew I was lying because I needed him to go away, I needed him to leave. “I hate you so, so much. I hate… I… hate… I…” And I couldn’t even finish. I heard his thick swallow, and it sounded as if he had a stone jammed down his throat, a solid rock he’d never choke down.

                “I know,” he murmured, “It’s okay.” And there wasn’t anything more to say, was there? There couldn’t be. I went limp and stopped protesting at his grasp, and I stopped crying. I just lay there, I just let him hold me, I just breathed, and when a black car pulled up to the curb, when the door opened, I let him bundle me inside, I let him prop my head on his lap, I let him stroke his fingers through my hair, I let the thick, dry heat of the car overtake me. Words fell from my lips before I could stop them.

                “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

                “It’s okay,” he said again, and his own voice was too low, now, hiding cracks and breaks as if he himself was close to crying, but that couldn’t be true. He was too… he was a pillar. Pillars didn’t cry. I relaxed completely, all of a sudden, there in the backseat of Gentleman Johnny Marcone’s car, relaxed with my head on his lap, relaxed when my body, my life, was vulnerable. I relaxed, and I slept.

* * *

 

                I awoke up the next morning in a bed I didn’t recognize, but it was one of the most comfortable I’d ever been in by a longshot. I sat up slowly, carefully, fearful of some sort of trap because I couldn’t remember where I was or how I’d gotten here. I didn’t see anything in the immediate vicinity, which obviously meant that there was something in the immediate vicinity, so when I stood and began my walk across the room, I did it cautiously. Or, I would have, but the door opened and someone stepped inside before I made it three steps. See? I know what I’m talking about sometimes.

                “You’ve woken up? That’s good. I was quite worried that you were given too many painkillers last night for that to be a possibility. Still, you shouldn’t be up yet, your stitches will tear open. Come now, lie back down. You’ve nothing to do today,” the someone who came in told me, John Marcone told me. What? How the hell had he gotten me here? I didn’t remember… I’d just been walking home last night, right? What, had he kidnapped me? Hell’s Bells, I knew he was a little off the first time I ever met him and he had Hendricks jerk me into his car, but I didn’t think he’d ever kidnap me for _real._ He took me by the arm while I was gaping (and what the hell was I wearing, anyway? These weren’t my clothes; they were way too big for me) and led me back to the bed. I blinked.

                “Uh? I think we might be suffering from a failure to communicate here, Marcone. What am I doing here?” He appeared shocked, genuinely, legitimately, humanly, shocked. That was weird. That was beyond weird. Was I in the Twilight Zone? I answered my own question with a yeah, probably, and why does that even surprise you at this point?

                “Harry, I brought you here last night after I found you in the street. Do you… Harry, do you really not remember?” I raised my eyebrows at him.

                “Marcone, I don’t make it a habit of loitering on a Chicago sidewalk in the middle of the night when I’m bleeding like I was last night. I was walking home, that’s the last I remember. I just assumed you saw me wobbling while I walked and took the opportunity to hit me over the head with something. Wouldn’t be the first time someone pulled that trick on me. Also, don’t call me Harry, scumbag.” He stared at me like I’d sprouted a second head. In fact, not just a second head, but a second head with an arm growing out of its ear. He shook his head and sighed.

                “Perhaps that is what you were doing originally, Harry, but when I found you, you were leaning against the wall of a building and crying. I called a car and had you brought here with me, and we spoke for some time after you awoke and my doctor stitched you up.” Why would I have been crying? That didn’t make any sense. I hadn’t cried in… a while. I couldn’t remember the exact amount of time, I just knew that there’d been a lot of it. Besides, it wasn’t like I really had anything to be upset about at the moment; I’d lived through another case, I was getting paid soon, all that jazz.

                “Sorry, Johnny, but that doesn’t sound like me. Just how many scrawny wizards have you been canoodling with, Marcone? I might start to get jealous.” He rolled his eyes, a weird little smile pulling his lips.

                “Only you, Harry, only you. And last night _you_ were the one who I found attempting to freeze himself in the street. You then came back here with me, perfectly willingly, and said a few very interesting things to me.” I snorted.

                “Prove it.”

                “I do have surveillance cameras here, Harry; you may watch the tapes of you coming in here under your own power and lying on that bed there whenever you like, I care very little. Admittedly, you didn’t choose to change your clothes, but were you in your right mind I wouldn’t have thought you’d want something saturated with that much of your blood roaming around freely. I burned all but your jacket, which is currently being washed.” Huh. Well, he could’ve doctored the tapes. I’d heard Murphy say before that sci-fi stuff like that was pretty common lately. I was pretty sure that at least required some time, though. Still, I wasn’t in any shape to watch it literally right now. Maybe he knew that and knew he’d have time to change the tapes. Either way, if I were being perfectly honest I’d say I was way more worried about whatever ‘interesting’ things I’d told him.

                “Whatever you say. I’ll watch them tomorrow. Now, what kind of bullshit did I try to tell you?” He smiled.

                “You mentioned how frightened you were, how upset, and how sad. You told me about how guilty you are about what happened to Miss Rodriguez, which is entirely not your fault, by the way; if you truly did tell her what you did, then she is the only one at fault for marching headlong into that party despite your warnings. You also informed me that all you truly wanted was for someone, just one person, to stay with you no matter what, to protect you above all else.” And he was getting really close to me. He was also hitting uncomfortably close to home with some of those things he said, uncomfortably close to topics he couldn’t have known about unless I really had actually told him. I gritted my teeth and slid away from him some, put some more space between us. His eyes were unnervingly brilliant that close up, too real and too bright and too knowing.

                “You could’ve guessed any of that, or figured it out with a little research. I mean, Stars, I’d be a pretty big idiot if I weren’t scared of the shit I fight, and I wouldn’t even be human if I didn’t get upset or sad sometimes. Also, what guy wouldn’t feel a little guilty if he couldn’t keep his own girlfriend from getting turned into a vampire? And what guy in my position wouldn’t want someone to take care of him every now and again? It’s no big deal.” He nodded and smiled.

                “Not a big deal at all, a perfectly understandable desire. For someone in your position.” His hand settled on my chest, fingers spread wide and my heart drummed on in my chest. I licked my lips. He smirked. Then he was gone, some distance away, separate, untouchable. The smile on his face was polite and soulless. “Now, despite you not remembering, I believe we’ve something very important to discuss; you signed my contract.” I choked on my spit. He raised a single graceful eyebrow.

                “What?” He sighed and slid a sheaf of papers from his jacket and placed it in front of me. I recognized it as the contract I’d turned down oh so very long ago and wondered why he’d kept it. I then flipped to the back page, the page where I knew there was a thin black line, but instead of that blank line, I saw my own scrawling signature. I stared at it, and as I stared, I remembered.

                Marcone had found me last night. I had been crying, and I’d been crying about nothing and everything all at once, desperate little fleeting feelings I hardly understood just then, and yeah, I hadn’t fought when he brought me here. I’d even slept on his lap in his car on the way. I’d let him lead me upstairs, I’d let his personal physician pull my wounds together with thick black stitches, I’d let him pop a painkiller into my mouth. And I had talked to Marcone that night, I’d talked about a million things I only occasionally considered myself, a million little sadnesses and pains and fears and miseries, and I told him that I wished I could rest. I told him that I wished I had someone to take care of me and protect me.

                It had been then that he told me he would, that he’d protect me with all he had, and it’d only take one little thing, my signature on a piece of paper. He told me that he’d keep me safe and help me whenever I needed it. And I’d done it. I’d picked up his pen and signed my name and I’d _thanked_ him. I’d hugged him. He’d hugged me back and given me some of his clothes to sleep in. It couldn’t be valid, none of it could. That couldn’t have been me.

                “You see?” he asked, and then he smiled, “It seems you’re beginning to remember, aren’t you?” I gritted my teeth.

                “I was doped up on your doctor’s pills. There’s no way in hell that signature would hold up in court. I wasn’t in my right mind when I signed.” He shrugged.

                “If you’d prefer me to write up a new one and allow you to sign it now, I assure you it wouldn’t be a problem.” I glared.

                “I’m not going to work for you.” He shook his head.

                “I think you are. I refuse to let you go, Mr. Dresden; whether you like it or not, you’re mine now, and I will keep my promise to you, I will protect you, keep you  safe when you need it. In exchange, all I ask is that you perform a task for me if I ask it of you.” I know that it’s awful and terrible and disgusting of me, but in a way, I was glad. I was glad that I’d have his shadow over me, glad that I could depend on him to keep me safe, because he was nothing if not a formidable man. It was at the cost of myself, though, at the cost of my soul and my freedom, and I couldn’t deal with that. Maybe, though… maybe we could work out some sort of compromise. I swallowed.

                “Look, Marcone, I don’t know what was wrong with me last night. I was… I think everything just sort of fell out of me at once. That happens sometimes, I’ll admit it, and when it does, I do things I’d regret later. This is one of those things. Still, I can’t help but… I want to make a deal with you, Marcone. John. Let’s just… let’s sit down and work something else out. Not this. I’m not going to belong to you, I refuse. But I will… I might agree to something else. Something a little less constricting.” He looked thoughtful.

                “What do you have in mind, Harry?” I bit my lip and stared at the wall behind him because really, it was a very nice, pretty wall. Interesting, you know? Truly a very fascinating wall. Perhaps the most fascinating I’d ever seen.

                “Maybe a… a favor system. You do something for me, I’ll owe you something, whatever you want, so long as it’s legal.” He quirked up an eyebrow, one of his arms across his chest, the other across his contract, his fingers tapping restlessly, perhaps annoyed.    

                “I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more specific about these ‘somethings’ Harry. I don’t quite understand what you’re offering me.” I sighed and raked a hand through my hair because Hell’s Bells, he had to know what I meant. Why did he want me to actually _say_ it?

                “I don’t have anyone who’ll just… sit with me, Marcone. I don’t have anyone who understands the fact that I’m not perfect and I don’t actually like having the fate of this universe resting on my shoulders once every damned year. Stupid as this sounds, Johnny, sometimes I just need a hug and a shoulder to complain on. I mean, I’ve got people who try, I do, but they… I don’t like seeming weak in front of them because that means they won’t trust in my, I don’t know, stability when we’re actually fighting. In regards to that, at least, you’re a neutral party. So if I could come to you and get you to just… take over for me for a little while, let me be not in charge, then I’d owe you a favor. You could ask me to repay it however as long as it’s all aboveground. I’m not going to be part of your operation, and I’m not going to be a weapon you can cock and point wherever you want. I’m not unwilling to make a deal with you, though.” I watched as he gazed almost forlornly at his contract, and then he sighed, then he tore it. I was sure my relief was palpable.

                “I’d rather have part of you willingly than all of you with you doing nothing but fighting me. Alright. That seems to be a relatively fair deal. I believe that it would be better for the both of us, however, if we set up some limits. I do not want you to come here and stay for an hour and then have to deal with me requesting you to fly across the globe, and I don’t want myself to have to deal with the temptation to do so.” I nodded.

                “I’m probably not going to come by often, honestly. It’s too dangerous. I mean, Murphy’s only just now starting to totally trust me again. I’m not going to ruin that for… for this.  Plus you’re… you know, you. If I look weak around you too much, I can’t be sure what you’ll do, contract or no. But yeah, you’re right. I should’ve been more specific. Still, I’m not… uh, how about I do little things like, uh, wards for quick visits, something a little bigger like making charms and armor and stuff like that for you and your guys for half a day, and I’ll do something equal to working a case for you for a night. Does that sound fair? I don’t know. I’m not a fairy; I’m not very good with equivalency.” His lips quirked up gently. His hand settled on top of mine and his pinkie finger reached out to caress the back of my wrist. I jumped a little but he pressed his hand down harder to hold me still.

                “It sounds fair, Harry, do not worry yourself. That’s a good enough outline. I’m certain that we’re capable of working out trickier requests on the spot, you understand. Now, I suppose you’ll want to go home now? I’ll have the contract made out, of course, and you may review it whenever you wish.” I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just made a deal with the devil, but I nodded nonetheless.

                “Yeah. Yeah. That’s… that’s good. Fine. We’re fine. I’ll… yeah. I’ll see you when I see you.” He had that unreadable smile on his face again as I left, and I kept picturing it, picturing his bright eyes, as one of his cars escorted me to my home.

* * *

 

                The contract came to my house about a week later, and I read through it three times with the most careful eye I could muster. Nothing seemed out of line with what we’d discussed, though, so I slapped my signature on it and sent it back to him. He sent me notification that he’d received it and that it was now valid. I then promptly forgot about it, about our little deal, for two months. It wasn’t until that one case, a case where I didn’t catch the bad guy fast enough, a case where Murphy looked so damned sad, a case where two kids, two kids that reminded me way too much of myself and Elaine, were killed, that I even considered going to him.

                Even then, I didn’t consider it right away. I went home, first, went home with undeserved money in my pockets because I had helped solve it, I just hadn’t been _fast_ enough damn it, and took a shower to clean the dirt and blood off of me. Then I stared at the wall for an hour, tried to read, and found I couldn’t. My mind was still on overdrive. Magic was twitching in my hands, so much of it that even Mouse and Mister were a little wary of going near me. I was keyed up for a fight. I was keyed up to kill. I wished I had killed the bastard. I wished I didn’t wish that. Finally I let out a frustrated sigh and grabbed my phone. My fingers moved with practiced ease over Marcone’s number, the personal number he’d given me in the contract, the number I hadn’t even realized I’d memorized until then. He picked up on the third ring.

                “Hello, Mr. Dresden. I must say I was expecting you to put off calling me for a year at least.” I flinched and Mouse whined, came over to drop his head on my thigh. I scratched him behind the ears.

                “Shut up. I really… I need to come over. Can I?” He stopped. I heard his intake of breath.

                “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that you were… upset. I’d thought you’d be calling about something else, you understand.” I couldn’t even laugh, couldn’t make a joke. I’d been trying to trust him, and he was apologizing, but it wasn’t… I still wasn’t sure about this.

                “I won’t ever call this number for anything else; I have your office number. If it’s for a case, I’ll use that.”

                “Of course, yes. You may come whenever you like, alright? Do you want me to send a car for you, or will you drive to my home?” I had to laugh a little at that, he just sounded so… he didn’t know what he was doing either.

                “My car got… it’s, uh, in the shop right now. Can you send a car for me?”

                “Of course. A car will be there in about twenty minutes. I’ll see you soon.” And then he hung up. I curled up into my chair and stared at the wall for another twenty minutes while I waited for the car. I thought of what I’d seen when I got to the house on the outskirts of town, the house where the Warlock of the Week had been living with the kids. I recalled that it had been painfully red everywhere. Red, lurid, brilliant and disgusting. I’d been so angry. I’d thrown him into a wall and I’d remembered DuMorne. I’d thrown magic at him harder and wished I’d been able to do the same to the real DuMorne, but unlike DuMorne, I didn’t kill that bastard. Murphy had come and taken him away. I’d fled to the station and waited for a few hours until I got my money, and I would’ve stayed longer but I couldn’t bring myself to risk seeing the man’s face again. I heard a loud knock that jolted me up to my feet.

                I tugged my door open and saw Hendricks on the other side, looking almost as burned out as me. I felt a little guilty; I’d have to drive myself next time.

                “Sorry I’m keeping you out so late,” I mumbled as I climbed into the passenger seat, and he raised his eyebrows at me and shrugged.

                “I’d be up anyway. You just saved me from working on my fucking term paper, honestly. Besides, Dresden, you look like shit. What the hell happened to you?” I shrugged and buckled the belt.

                “Bad week.” He looked like he wanted to press that, but didn’t. Our drive was silent but for some bouncy pop song that droned, nearly silent, on the radio. I finally had to ask.

                “Didn’t think you would be the preteen pop kind of guy,” I told him, a thin smirk on my face. He looked oddly grateful that I was joking around and sighed.

                “Chick Boss has me working with likes it.” I snickered, and I was grateful for the distraction too, even if I couldn’t get totally into the teasing like usual.

                “Aw, how sweet! I also wouldn’t have pegged you as such a lady’s man.” He rumbled out a laugh as we pulled through a set of wrought iron gates I recognized, right up to a high, curved doorway.

                “I’m not. She’s fucking tough, like your cop friend. Kicked my ass before. I surrendered my radio to her months ago.” It’s funny, the kind of things that can make someone seem like a real person to you. Hendricks had been a guard dog, before that second, a hulking, growling brick wall that served to do nothing but protect Marcone. Now he was an average guy who had term papers and women who scared him shitless. I shook my head, my mind expanded way too much, and walked into Marcone’s mansion. He greeted me in the main room and swept me upstairs to the same room I’d woken up in two months before. It looked exactly the same now as it had then. He went and sat on the wide, soft bed, and I stepped forward to do the same, but my body seemed to have other ideas because I went down on my knees jest beside the bed instead. My head plopped onto his thigh and I felt a little like Mouse, so I laughed before I sighed.

                “Harry?” he asked me, and I don’t think I’d ever heard my name phrased as a question so often before I met Marcone.

                “I’m tired, John. I want you to be bigger than me for a while. Just let me sit here, it’s not going to affect you.” I shut my eyes and he seemed to relax as he put a hand in my hair and ran through it. I relaxed too. The silence was almost comforting, now, and I could feel the tight knots of my magic loosening some, but I still saw red behind my eyes.

                “What happened, Harry? Not to be rude, but you look awful.” I shrugged.

                “Haven’t slept in… I can’t remember. At least three days. Maybe four. I’ve been on a case, a really important one.” I took a deep breath and I thought I’d have to go more slowly, but they just poured out of me. “There were two kids, a little boy and a little girl. Brother and sister. Some bastard kidnapped them and he was… there’s this ritual he was doing, a kind of power up thing. He needed the blood of innocents to get it going. I figured that much out pretty quick, I just needed to _find_ them, but I knew I had a little time because the ritual had some pretty extensive set up to it. I needed the time, though, because the parents didn’t have anything I could use for a tracking spell, no blood, no hair, no nothing. I had to find them the old fashioned way and I wasn’t fast enough.” He was breathing more heavily, and he accidentally pulled my hair a couple of times. I suddenly remembered his thing with kids and wondered if he’d kick me out. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.

                “He performed the ritual, then? Were you hurt too badly?” I shook my head.

                “Didn’t finish it. I interrupted him halfway through, but the kids… god, they even looked a little like us,” I sighed.

                “Us?” he questioned gently, and I smiled.

                “Me and my old foster sister, Elaine. We were together through a lot of things, a lot of… we lived with a wizard named DuMorne for a long time, me for six years, her for three. He wasn’t exactly a caring father figure, I guess is the best way of putting it,” I told him, and even I detected a bitter note in my voice. I winced because I didn’t deserve that note, I didn’t. I didn’t deserve to be upset because a lot of people, Elaine included, had had it way worse than me. DuMorne was a bastard, yeah, but it wasn’t that bad. It never had been, with any of my families, and my old social worker had always told me how good I was for not complaining about every little thing, although she usually then proceeded to tell me how bad I was for insisting on getting into so many fights with other kids.

                “He was abusive,” Marcone said, and that one wasn’t a question.

                “It was never all that terrible. He only hit me a couple of times, and never that hard. Probably the worst thing that he ever did was use a pitching machine to teach me how to shield. I broke my arm like that. Anyway, I came home one day and found him and Elaine on the couch. He was Enthralling her, and he wanted me too. I ran off, he sent an Outsider after me, I met my Godmother, and I came back and burned his house down with him inside. Turned out he’d only wanted me and Elaine to be his own personal obedient little guard dogs. That… that hurt, because I really had loved him. He gave me my first real present, my first present that actually had my name on it, and he’s the one who really taught me how to use my magic. My first fire spell. I’d loved him, and I’d wanted him to be proud of me. Then I killed him.” I laughed. Marcone’s hand drifted down my neck and held there, his thumbs pressing hard into tight tendons until I relaxed again.

                “He displayed affection to you to trap you, then. It’s… a common tactic, with foster children. They’re often so deprived of care that it’s simple to get one to obey with little more than a hug or a kind word, and so long as they’re praised afterwards, any punishment or cruelty they’re dealt becomes fine. It’s normal that you felt how you did, Harry. It doesn’t make you weak, or strange.” I buried my eyes into his leg.

                “It doesn’t make me any less of a killer. That’s all I’ve ever been, it’s what I’m built for. It’s what I was trained for, for a long time. DuMorne was the first one I ever killed, but you know as well as me that he wasn’t the last one. Far from it. So, so far. I killed someone else that day too: Elaine. I burned the house without thinking that she was in there too and she died. I killed the first girl I ever loved and who loved me back. We had been everything to each other for three years and I just fucking burned her alive!” I was lurching up to my feet but Marcone put a hand on my back and pressed me back down. I was breathing far too heavily, and he seemed to realize that because he was whispering those little words again.

                “Harry it’s okay, I’m here, please, calm down, it’s okay.” I listened to him for what had to have been the first time. I wondered if maybe we should have a cake together to celebrate and giggled a little as my head fell on his leg again. “It wasn’t your fault that she died, it was his. Had he not, what was it, Enthralled her? Yes, if he’d not Enthralled her she would not have died. You can’t simply blame yourself for it when someone dies, those children included. I understand that you think you’re some sort of Superman, that it’s impossible for you to simply be not fast enough, but it happens. Regular cops and regular private detectives and even people such as me have to face that fact rather often. You, despite your talents, are human, after all.” I choked and clenched my eyes shut to keep myself from crying again. He’d seen it once; he didn’t need to see it twice.

                “They didn’t deserve to die. Being drained of your blood like that, drained like a fucking barnyard animal, is terrible. It hurts. It’s frightening. It’s… no one deserves to die like that, especially not two little kids. When I saw that, I wanted to kill someone again. I wanted to kill him. I _would_ have killed him if Murphy hadn’t come in. That’s always my kneejerk reaction when someone gets hurt; kill the cause. I can’t control it and that scares me, John,” I mumbled, and he slid his arms under my armpits and hauled me up and onto the bed with him, tugged me into a hug. I returned it thoughtlessly and whined into the side of his neck. He shushed me and ran a soothing hand up and down my spine and strangely enough, it felt almost like everything really was okay.

                “Stay here tonight, sleep, rest. I’ll remain with you,” he grunted into my ear, and I nodded. He brought me pajamas (that really was a novelty. I never use pajamas) that I changed into in the bathroom, and when I lay down in that bed, he brought a chair to sit beside me. I woke up with my hand in his, him snoring in the chair, and that had to be the funniest, most surreal sight I’d ever seen. I went home that day, bemused at both that vision and how simply… fine I felt. Not happy, I was still sad and upset, but it wasn’t… it wasn’t uncontrollable. It was normal. It was… Hell’s Bells, it was okay.    


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, but I just realized that I gave Harry Mouse in the last chapter, when he didn't have Mouse yet at the point in the timeline when this fic takes place. Sorry about that, but I promise I haven't accidentally altered anything more significant than that! Sorry again!

At my office that day, I got a call and was actually stupid enough to hope that I was going to get two cases so close together. I mean, honestly, there are just not that many people out there who have the kind of problems necessitating a glance under ‘Wizard’ in the phonebook. I think the world is probably a better place that way, really. And anyway, he’d just fulfilled his end of our little bargain. I should’ve expected he’d want me to do the same.

“Mr. Dresden?” All business, professional. I wondered why that was a little annoying now even though I’d always asked him to stop calling me Harry. I guessed because I’d actually been, you know, open to him the other night, and after granting him something that personal, it was a little weird to be held at arm’s length again. But it was only business, our little arrangement. I’d have to work to remember that.

“Hey Marcone,” I replied, “That was quick. What did you decide you wanted? I stayed overnight, so you can have the equivalent of a case.” I could almost feel his patronizing smile.

“No. You stayed the night, yes, but you came very late. I’ll only be asking for a mid-range favor. Really, Harry, have you never had to bargain before? You shouldn’t give of yourself so freely to a man like me.” I rolled my own eyes at the wall, as if he could really see me.

“Give me a break, Johnny, most of my deals just involve someone telling me to do something or die in some sort of very creative manner that likely involves teeth and claws and slime. I’m not used to the whole contract thing. I means, Stones, I don’t even have any other contracts, at least not written ones. People just tell me when I’m supposed to give them money for something, I give them at least part of that required amount of money at that required time, and we all go on our merry way. Anyway, what do you want?” He laughed quietly and I’m sure it was accompanied with a world weary, long suffering shake of his head.

“You certainly sound as if you’re feeling better.” Since when did Marcone attempt to stall? He’d never been shy about telling me what he wanted from me before.

“Yeah, I’m walking on sunshine, whoa. I’m over both the moon and the rainbow. I am skipping through mental fields of fucking daisies. Now, Hell’s Bells, Marcone, quit stalling and tell me what you want.” The line snapped with static as I grew annoyed with him, and when he replied the phone cut out every two or three words, so all I got was something or another about a movie, which made no sense whatsoever. I sighed and attempted to relax, and while that helped a little, the Phone Gods had apparently become irreparably angered at my continued existence today, so it still wasn’t clear enough to have a real-life conversation.

“This isn’t going to work. I didn’t understand a word of that, honestly. Look, I’ll be in my office all day, unless something suitably world altering/ending occurs at any point in the near future, so come by and tell me here.” There was a slight pause, and then he spoke again, mostly understandably.

“Alright. I’ll arrive in about an hour, so please,” the next few words were garbled and impossible to understand, “Goodbye.” Then I heard the dial tone, so I settled the thing back in its receiver. I worked on paperwork feverishly for that hour because when you’re a PI different forms just sort of start falling out of the sky. I don’t even know what half of the ones I fill out mean, but Murphy always tells me I have to put my signature and some dates on them, so that’s what I do. I’m pretty sure I’m actually supposed to do more, and I’m also pretty sure that Murphy does it for me. I do at least fill out the case reports myself, though, but then again, I’m also pretty sure she goes through those with a fine tooth comb and puts in nice vanilla explanations for things down over my own usually fantastical (and possibly just a tiny bit embellished) tales. Marcone came in when I had one pen behind my ear, a red colored pencil between my teeth, and a regular pencil that had been sharpened almost down to the eraser held jauntily in my hand. He raised a single eyebrow at me. I spat the pencil out.

“Shut up, Marcone, event reports need different colors sometimes, and this one’s kind of weird.”

“I really don’t wish to imagine anything that you, of all people, would consider odd.” I snorted and wondered how I was being so civil right now. Me and Marcone just didn’t do civil. It was against the natural order of things, really.

“It’s not like ‘oh-shit-big-ass-monster-that’s-going-to-kill-me-dead’ weird, more ‘what-is-that-why-is-it-in-this-poor-bastard’s-closet-and-why-is-it-blue’ weird. Although, he was a college student, so maybe it’s not as weird as I think. I don’t know what normal college students are like nowadays; I just know the college students of the shape-shifter variety. For all I know unidentifiable blue things that sort of wiggle a little and have eyes and remind me strangely a lot of the cookie monster are common. I don’t ask questions, to tell the truth, I just kind of stare at stuff until it spontaneously combusts or tries to kill me.” He smiled in an oddly nice sort of way, as if he thought my escapades were just _adorable._

“And what did this particular… thing, decide on?” I shrugged.

“It wanted to come live with me. I figure it was attracted to magic or something because the guy felt like a minor practitioner to me. It probably felt more magic on me, so it tried to attach itself to me. It was kind of cute, really. I might’ve let it if I didn’t think Mister would’ve eaten it. Anyway, I just opened a portal to the Nevernever, tossed it through, got my fifty bucks, and left. Come to think of it, I probably should go check on that guy. Now that I’ve looked it up I think that thing might’ve been some kind of magical parasite, so it’s probably a good thing that I wasn’t taken in by its adorable big eyes.” I fluttered my own eyelashes at Marcone to demonstrate what I was talking about and he laughed as he took a seat in front of my desk. “So, what do you want me to do for you, Johnny?”

“You need a new chair to put here, Harry. This is quite uncomfortable.” I huffed.

“Despite popular belief, Marcone, I do actually have stuff to do on the days when I’m not saving the universe and its inhabitants. Today is a particularly busy day because if I don’t get at least half of this paperwork done I’m pretty sure Murphy is going to literally scalp me or something. I got really behind when I was… uh, not working for a while.” He flinched at my mentioning of the depression I’d gone through because I couldn’t find a way to fix Susan. I bit my lip and glanced away for a second, then looked back to find him perfectly composed again. I released the tender skin from my teeth. “So, why don’t you tell me what you decided to request?”

“Yes, well. I had thought that perhaps you would accompany me for a dinner tonight with an associate of mine who has been showing something of a keen interest in the magical side of my business. I could always use more assistance with things of that nature, and I assumed that if he had any complex questions you’d be better suited than I to handle them. I had also thought that you and I might go for a movie afterwards, as something I’d rather enjoy seeing has been sent to me, and I’d feel quite awful watching it on my own.” I blinked.

“You want me to go out to dinner with you and watch a movie? Really? That’s your big plan? You have my services in any way you want, and you want dinner and a movie?” I hadn’t expected that, like, at all. I’d been expecting some kind of clever ploy to get me to help him take over the universe.

“I was under the assumption that I could have what I wanted.” I shrugged.

“Well, yeah, but obviously I reserved the right to question it. I’m just curious about why that’s all you want.”

“The thing I currently want most is more people to assist me with the magic-related elements that have now begun to entangle themselves in my work, and so I’d like you around as a sort of reference material in an endeavor to convince a man who I believe would be a valuable asset that all this,” he paused to move his left hand in an all-encompassing gesture, “to work on my more delicate operations. And, because I do indeed like you despite what you seem to think more often than not, I would enjoy it if you spent a bit of at least marginally civil time with me afterwards, and as you generally have something of a problem with concepts like civil, I had thought an activity that didn’t require vocalizations would be more appropriate.” I blinked. That was… well. It sounded a whole lot like a really complicated way to say very little indeed. I honestly didn’t think I’d get much more out of him, though; Marcone hid behind flowery language and business words like they were armor, like they were shields, and I had to admit that he was better than most at keeping people out, when he wanted to be.

“Oh. Well, uh. Alright. I’ll see you tonight, then, I guess. What time, and where?” He shook his head.

“My associate and I will pick you up. Where will you be at about six thirty?”

“Six thirty? Still here, probably. I’ll give you a call if something happens, but unless it’s an emergency I’ve got a lot of work to do because again, Murphy might not be bigger than me, but she’s proven on plenty of occasions that she’s entirely capable of kicking my skinny ass across a room.” He nodded and stood.

“Alright. I’ll return at that time, then. And if you wouldn’t mind, please do attempt to show me at least a modicum of respect in front of my associate. Call me John or, preferably, call me Mr. Marcone, and, for the love of god, try to resist calling me a scumbag for the duration of the evening. You may do so as much as you like after he is no longer with us, but before that instance you may cause some problems.” I grinned.

“Aw, poor Johnny’s scared I’m going to embarrass him in front of his friends! I feel just like a mother! Anyway, sure. Despite what _you_ generally think, I am capable of being polite, I just don’t like it.” He nodded.

“Thank you, Harry.” I waved him off and he left. I plucked up the colored pencil and slipped it back between my teeth as I heard my office door shut and got back to work. Also, if anyone knows what a Form 22-D is, you should probably tell me, and also inform me of whether or not it’s acceptable for it to be drenched in what I’m pretty sure is week-old coffee.

* * *

 

Marcone returned at promptly six thirty. Like, I literally looked at my little clock on my desk when he came in, and it was settled exactly on six thirty. The bastard was crazy punctual. He gave me an unusually bemused look when he saw me, though.

“Harry, how in the world could I possibly be gone for nearly eight hours and return to exactly the same sight I left to?” Oh. I guessed he was referring to the fact that my two pencils and my pen were in the same locations as before, except now the pen was leaking ink on my right ear. I shrugged and spat the pencil out again.

“I had a _lot_ of paperwork, Marcone.” He broke into a low, rumbling laugh and shook his head.

“Come along, then. My associate is already a bit cranky, and I’m certain he’d like to be fed quickly. Do you have a jacket here?” I got to give him a look that suggested he was stupid which I enjoyed solely for its rarity. I then proceeded to point at the coat rack directly beside my door that was decorated with my duster. I plucked it down and shrugged it on as he nodded, and we began walking downstairs.

“So, Mr. Marcone, where are we going?” I was pretty proud that I got that name out without sounding even the least little bit sarcastic. He actually paused in his steps for a second too, I assume to take that in, before he replied.

“Morton’s,” he told me. I stared.

“I can’t afford that. I could not afford that if I fasted for a week and sold all of my worldly possessions.”

“I’m paying.” Of course he was. I valiantly resisted the urge to say that as we arrived outside and went up to his car. He opened up the back door for me, and I slid inside beside some shorter, dark haired man who was nearly as well built as Hendricks, who sat in the front driving. His eyes were pale blue and his face sharp with angles when he looked at me. I grinned as Marcone climbed in across from us.

“Hi there! I’m Harry Dresden, resident Wizard extraordinaire. And you are?” I shifted the grin to a thin, polite smile, and held my hand out to shake. He took it and did so, his grip hard. Marcone stared at us as if I’d just tipped his world on end. I moved my eyes over this other man quickly and saw a barely noticeable yet telltale bulge of a gun on the left side of his chest, as well as an oddly flat plane on the wrist of the hand he hadn’t shook mine with that was probably a knife.

“My name is Terry Powers, Mr. Dresden. It’s wonderful to meet you, especially after hearing so many… stories, about you.” I snickered.

“Nice to meet you as well, Mr. Powers. So, I hear you’re getting interested in jumping into the magic business?” I’d have normally accompanied that statement with a wiggling of my fingers, but I actually do have some self-control, and I didn’t know how pissed Marcone would be if I was my usual self during all of this. He nodded and crossed his arms, spared a glance accompanied by raised eyebrows towards Marcone, and then returned his attention to me.

“I am, but that is talk to be discussed over dinner. Car rides are supposed to be pleasant, are they not? Tell me a bit about yourself, Mr. Dresden.” I smiled.

“Not all that much to say, really. I’ve been a Wizard my whole life, lived on a farm for a couple of years, then I moved here and I’ve stayed through thick and thin ever since. I fight random monsters at random times and make dumb jokes at them that generally result in tooth marks on various parts of my person. That’s pretty much me right there.” He laughed.

“I haven’t a clue why Mr. Marcone there thought that you would upset me! You seem like very pleasant company, to me.” I smirked.

“Well, Mr. Marcone has been around me in some pretty stressful situations. I get a little, uh, not pleasant when I’m stressed, and slavering demons tend to stress me out a little for some reason.”  He looked a touch green for a moment, and I spared a quick glance towards Marcone, my eyebrows raised before I looked back at the other man. Why did he want someone who seemed scared by the mere mention of this kind of thing to work on the magical front?

“I hope you aren’t expecting me to become a monster fighter, Mr. Marcone. You should know I’m not cut out for any front line work you generally require.” Marcone shook his head.

“I realize as much, however you are far better at negotiating than the majority of the in the know men I currently have. I’d simply like another asset, you understand, someone I could call on for more delicate meetings. That is why I wished for Mr. Dresden there to dine with us this evening; he is quite intimately acquainted with magical law, and I had thought that he’d be the best man for explaining at least the basics of it to you, and for telling you a bit more about what you should expect should you decide to be of assistance to me in this regard.” The man nodded, a strange little smile on his face.

“Ah. Well, Mr. Dresden. Harry. May I call you Harry?” Marcone was staring at us, like he was expecting something, like something important and impressive was about to happen, like the fate of his whole world was hanging by a thread. I understood it suddenly; he wanted to see if I’d grant this man, this man I’d never met, a level of intimacy that I’d never officially given to him. He wanted to know if I thought this stranger was more worthy of using my first name than him. He wasn’t, honestly, but it wasn’t often that I was actually able to read Marcone, and I really did like pissing him off, making him look like and act like a human.

“Why not?” Marcone’s lips pressed together until they seemed thin. His hands, clasped together on his lap, tightened around one another until I was almost certain he’d draw blood. The look in his eyes told me he thought I’d just done something awful. I spared him a tiny smirk before I returned my attention to Powers, who was sporting a ridiculously relieved smile.

“Thank you, Harry. Now. Have you really nothing else to tell me about yourself? Perhaps how you and Mr. Marcone became involved with one another?” I snorted.

“I was working a case where something happened to one of his guys, he had Hendricks drive a creepy black sedan up beside me while I was walking on the sidewalk, then had Hendricks menace me into said car. He tricked me into a Soul Gaze, offered me a paid vacation, and when I refused he menaced me subtly until I left his vehicle. About a year after that I saved his ass from a Loup Garou, and in the time hence we’ve had a mostly non-antagonistic relationship, kind of. Also, no, beyond the fact that I am a Wizard PI who occasionally works for the CPD I don’t have much else to say about myself. I generally don’t start spouting my deepest, darkest secrets at somebody until we’ve known each other for at least a day.” He stared at me, and then looked at Marcone.

“Mr. Marcone, I never knew you applied such… interesting techniques to make someone’s acquaintance. By the way, Mr. Dresden, what is a Soul Gaze?” I yawned.

“It’s a thing Wizard’s like me can do. You know the old saying about how eyes are the windows to the soul? For Wizards, that’s actually true. If we look someone in the eye for too long, we get a sneak peak at their soul, or the essence of them, and that person gets the same look into the Wizard. A Wizard can only do that with a person once, though, and it’s not something most people want to do once they know what it really is. You don’t ever forget what you see when you Soul Gaze with somebody, and if you ever think about it, it gets drawn out, fresh as ever. Sometimes you see something beautiful that you don’t mind that happening with, but other times you see something disgusting and scary and insanity inducing. Beyond Mr. Marcone, I’ve only done it with a few other people, and they’re all, or were at one time, my closest people.” He grinned and relaxed.

“I had been wondering why you refused to look me in the eye. I’d thought I’d offended you.” I shook my head.

“Nah. Nothing against you or anything, but I’ve seen enough souls, and I don’t know what’s in mine, so I don’t like to make people look at it unless I’ve known them a while, or unless it’s really important that I find out something about that person.”

“I couldn’t imagine it being anything bad.” I let a crooked grin paint my lips although that thought caused a little pain.

“My old girlfriend fainted,” I said, “I don’t think it was because there were so many unicorns and rainbows in there.” And making it, making Susan, into a joke like that made it a little easier to think about. He cocked his head and I watched as him arm moved to rest on the back of the seat behind my neck. Marcone continued to watch us, his legs crossed, his hands still primly placed in his lap, and he looked like some sort of king, to me. I didn’t know why. I leaned forward a little to keep Powers’ skin from touching mine, and he seemed a little confused by that. I wondered why.

“Harry?” he questioned me, and I pursed my lips.

“Sorry. I’m not particularly good with touching people. I don’t like it.” He moved his arm immediately and I relaxed back against the soft leather seat. Marcone seemed viscerally pleased for a split second as we pulled up to a tall, white brick building that declared Morton’s in big white letters. People dressed in business attire walked in and out, all of them looking almost ephemeral. It was at that point that I noticed that Powers and Marcone were both in suits. “Uh. I’m not going to be allowed in there, you know that, right?” I asked, gesturing at my admittedly ratty t-shirt and jeans that had a tear in the right leg were I always walked on the hem (they were likely the only pants in the history of the universe that were actually too long for me, which was the exact reason why I liked them and refused to get rid of them). I hadn’t been planning on doing anything that day, okay? My paperwork doesn’t usually ask that I be dressed nicely while I scream at it. Marcone actually laughed at that, and Powers smirked.

“Mr. Dresden, I assure you that so long as you are with me, you will be allowed wherever you wish to be.” Now, had we been on our own I’d have said that I didn’t want to be here, but we weren’t, and though I hated to admit it, I liked our contract. I liked knowing that I could get comfort now, if I wanted it or needed it. It was a nice idea. I didn’t want to risk him taking it away from me, so instead I just bit my tongue and smiled. He got out of the car and took me by the arm to lead me up to the door, and Powers followed us with this weird look on his face that made him seem a lot uglier than he actually was. I mean, when I’d gotten in the car, he’d been a prime candidate for me to use my very favorite avoidance term, blandly handsome, just like Marcone had been. In some ways I guessed they looked a little bit alike, although Marcone was older, taller, and maybe a little more… I guess dignified is the right word. I mentally kicked myself for randomly deciding it’d be a good time to compare the looks of the two criminals I was going out to dinner with as Marcone greeted some guy at the door.

“Mr. Marcone, Mr. Powers. Nice to see you gentlemen,” he stated, and I noticed that he steadfastly avoided looking at, mentioning, or acknowledging me in any way, shape, or form. That right there took talent and very powerful force of will because I’m pretty sure I made quite a sight just then. I pretty much never went to this part of the city, and whenever I did I remembered the reason why I didn’t. Guys like me just didn’t fit in around here, generally, since I looked more like someone who’d be burgling these stores and restaurants and things rather than buying things from them or eating at them.

“And you as well,” Marcone said, walked inside with his hand still on my arm. He greeted the… uh, what do they call that guy that stands at the podium in the entrance of restaurants again? I can’t remember. Whatever, he greeted that guy. “I have reservations for a table for three this evening,” he said, and the man smiled.

“Of course, Mr. Marcone, right this way. It’s always a pleasure to have you dine with us.” I had to try really hard not to role my eyes at the blatant bootlicking, and instead took in the scenery. The tables were covered with clean, stark white tablecloths, and the lamps that were scattered around liberally put off a pale, yellowish glow. The furniture was solid wood, like Mac’s but more delicately wrought, the walls white with dark accents, and the whole place reeked of affluence. People stared at me from where I was being pulled along beside Marcone and I turned my gaze down to my feet. I felt another hand on my opposite arm, the one Marcone wasn’t holding, and a quick gasp fell from my mouth as my head whipped up to look at Powers. He smiled at me. I swallowed and offered one in return, wondering why he suddenly thought it was all fine and dandy to grab at me after what I’d said in the car. He was honestly lucky I hadn’t accidentally flambéed him. As it was, the tiny little lights inset into the ceiling flickered and I had to quickly drop the magic that had instinctually pooled into my hands. Hell’s Bells, when had I gotten so jumpy?

We finally reached a mostly private table near the back of the place, and Marcone had me sit beside him. Powers sat across from me. The man who’d led us here asked what we’d like to drink, and Marcone ordered us a bottle of, I think red zinfandel, which I know is a wine, but beyond that had no idea. Before the guy left, though, I had to talk because I didn’t particularly enjoy wine, never had, and I kind of wanted to be able to drink something with my food.

“Do you sell soft drinks here?” He cocked his head and did his best to keep up his polite smile.

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

“Oh. Can I get a glass of water then, please?” He nodded and really was able to put his polite smile back on his face.

“Of course, sir.” He walked off, and we were all left alone. Powers was looking at me funny, too.

“Harry, I promise that the wine here is excellent.” I shrugged.

“Probably. I don’t like wine, though. I guess I’m not really the high society type.” He nodded.

“I noticed that you did seem rather uncomfortable when we arrived.” I smiled and looked at the centerpiece on our table, reached out and touched a waxy looking leaf on one of the flowers because I’d always liked how those felt, and let my eyes take in the bright array of colors. Either way, wasn’t me being ‘uncomfortable’ the understatement of the year? These weren’t my people, this wasn’t my place. I was far more at home in dark bars that smelled like wood smoke, on shadowy streets looking for bad guys with my people. I had to hide a grin behind my hand when I realized that all of my people were almost as pathetically broke as me. Except for Michael. Michael was comfortably middle class, but then again, Michael was comfortably everything, which was a big part of what made him Michael.

“Well, yeah, look at me. I stick out here like a sore thumb, and in my business, that’s usually a really bad thing. It kind of puts me on edge. That’s why I don’t go to this area much, unless I have to; I don’t own anything nice enough to let me pass myself off for having actual real-life money like the people here.” He seemed shocked.

“Ah, you can’t pay? Don’t worry over it; I’ll treat you, Harry.” Marcone shook his head.

“I’ve already told him I’d cover his meal. I was the one that had him come here, after all.” His hand was oddly close to mine, almost close enough that I could feel the heat of his skin against mine. I sighed.

“I really like how what you got out of that diatribe was that I’m poor.” Powers laughed softly.

“You aren’t?” I looked at the tablecloth again.

“Well. Not many people have problems that make them look under Wizard in the phonebook, and the ones that do are worse off than me half the time. I get most of my money from CPD’s SI unit, and it takes a while for my checks to get to me through all the red tape, sometimes. To be perfectly honest, I do a lot more pro bono work than anyone sane would strictly recommend, but I don’t like to think that just because I needed money I didn’t take twenty minutes out of my day to clear the goblins out of someone’s attic. I get enough money to feed me and my pets, and periodically I even pay my bills.” The waiter guy came back with the wine bottle and a pitcher of water for me. Marcone poured the wine into two glasses and I poured my own water. Marcone then proceeded to order us all a steak, and while I was a bit confused as to how he knew how I liked mine, I didn’t complain. The waiter left again. Marcone’s fingertips had somehow crept closer, so now I felt them pressing ever so lightly into the side of my wrist.

“Do you have your own house, Harry?” I shook my head.

“No, I live in the basement of an old boarding house. The landlady likes me, though, since I help out with a couple minor repairs, shovel snow off the steps, all that. Plus she doesn’t have to have electricity or gas heat or a hot water heater put in for me, so she gives me reduced rent and doesn’t complain if I’m a month or three late so long as I at least make partial payments.” It was Powers’ turn to press his lips thinly together, and really, how were he and Marcone so much alike? It was sort of freaky. Was that just how all criminal underworld types acted? Were there classes I didn’t know about? Was the Evil Overlord List really that widely read?

“Harry, those do not seem like very safe conditions. Chicago in winter is not a place one wants to be without heating. You’re lucky to not freeze to death, especially in a basement!” I really couldn’t hold back my laugh at that.

“You didn’t even tell him that much, Mr. Marcone? Wizards can’t be around technological doodads without them suddenly not working anymore. If I lived around gas heating or a gas stove or anything like that I’d pretty much just explode it, which I’d rather not do. For some reason, though, I’m worse around some things than I am others. Like hot water heaters. I usually kill those after maybe three showers. Sometimes less. Like, I blew out my friend Murphy’s after just one, and I was only in there for like five minutes. She nearly broke my nose after that. It’s the same story with electric lights or cell phones or really anything made after World War II. That’s why the lights flickered when you put your hand on me as we came in; you startled me. Oh, and I don’t just sit around in the cold all winter. I have a hearth that works absolute wonders, and it’s almost shocking how well blankets work.” He looked intrigued.

“How was Mr. Marcone’s vehicle able to get us here, then?”

“I was pretty far away from the engine. If I’d wanted to, though, I could’ve made it break down. Uh, do you have anything that you wouldn’t mind getting broken? Electronic wise, I mean. I can show you.” He took his watch off and handed it to me. I looked at it, and the thing had diamonds in it. Sometimes I wished I had enough money that I wouldn’t care if I diamond watch got broken. I put it carefully in the palm of my hand and sucked in a tiny breath. “Hexus,” I mumbled as I released said breath, and the watch stopped ticking. The light over our heads also flickered for a second, but it stayed on, at least. I handed the little device back to him. “See? Besides, I’m usually pretty okay with cars. I keep an old beetle, myself, although it got sort of, um… well, it’s in about three more pieces than it should be at the moment. My mechanic is a miracle worker though.”

“Indeed,” he said, and slipped the watch into his pocket. I noticed suddenly that Marcone wore a ring. I hadn’t ever realized that before, but now that he seemed determined to merge our hands together I recognized its existence, brilliant and glittering gold on his pinkie finger. I wondered where he’d gotten it, and what it was for. I cleared my throat.

“Anyway. What do you want to know, Mr. Powers? About magic, I mean.” He offered me another smile, and how often did that guy smile anyway. He leaned against the table, leaned closer to me, and looked annoyingly interested.

“Call me Terry, please. After all, I’d feel cruel if I called you by your first name and didn’t allow you to call me by mine. And I suppose I’d simply like to know what I should look into, and what sort of dangers I might expect in a meeting with any creatures I might be expected to meet with.” I nodded because that seemed pretty understandable.

“Okay, Terry. You should probably get and read something called the Unseelie Accords. The language is a little fuzzy in places, honestly, but Queen Mab helped write them, so that’s pretty understandable. Still, you can get the majority of the rules for supernatural interactions from that. With the current climate on my side of the fence, the main things you’d probably be negotiating with are Red Court vampires or High Sidhe. With both of them, weird as this sounds, you’ll kind of have to worry about getting seduced by them. The Reds’ spit is an addictive narcotic, and the Sidhe are all pretty much gorgeous. Some of them really like mortals, too, and none of them are above using their looks to get mortals to do what they want.” He nodded.

“Men and women?” I shrugged.

“Supernatural things aren’t really as picky as mortals when it comes to gender. Some of them can’t really even tell the difference, actually. I mean, you’ll periodically meet one who prefers one or the other, but basically it’d be like asking a person whether they want chocolate or vanilla ice cream; they like one better, but they’ll take either. Anyway, you’re not an ugly guy, so a lot of them would probably go for you whether they wanted to kill you or not, and tempting though it be, screwing around with stuff that isn’t human is really unsafe. You can get addicted to it fast, and if you get addicted to it, they can have you do whatever they want. The Red Court, and some of the more magically inclined Sidhe, can do something called Enthralling a person, which basically means making someone into their slave. Mortal Wizards like me have laws against it, but our laws don’t mean anything to them. The only thing they abide by is the Accords.” He laughed.

“I’m not ugly, eh? Thank you, Harry. Now. Are there any particular Sidhe or Vampires I should look out for? And what are the Sidhe, exactly? I haven’t heard that term before.” Had it been a few months before, I’d have said Bianca, but now… well. I remembered the brilliant blaze, the fire, and winced. I’d killed more than vampires that night, and that thought made me vaguely ill.

“The Red Court is in kind of a scramble, right now, because a war between them and the White Council, the governing body of Wizards, recently broke out. With the Sidhe, who are basically the most powerful fairies, you should definitely look out for the Queens of Summer and Winter. There are six of them, but probably the most you’d ever deal with are the Ladies and the plain old Queens. The Mothers usually stay out of mortal affairs. All Sidhe are dangerous, though, even if they can’t lie. If you’re ever dealing with any of them, don’t take anything from them, no matter how small it might seem, because that will put you in their debt, and you don’t want to be in a Sidhe’s debt. Normally, the Sidhe can’t actually hurt a mortal, but if you make a deal with them by taking something or just by literally making a deal, that puts you in their domain, meaning they can do whatever they want to you. Oh, and look into Hospitality Laws too. That’ll come up with some of them.” He looked a touch overwhelmed.

“This seems like quite a lot to take in over one dinner, Mr. Marcone, Harry.” Our food arrived suddenly and the meat put off one of the most amazing smells I’d ever had the pleasure of knowing. I carved into it immediately and popped a piece into my mouth.

“Not as good as Mac’s, but fuck, it’s got to be second best,” I mumbled as I swallowed, and there was a light in Marcone’s eyes that suggested he was laughing at me. I rolled my eyes at him. “Anyway, yeah, it kind of is. I’ve been learning all this stuff since I was eight and I still manage to offend something at least once a month. I think I was basically just supposed to serve as a warning about what you’d really be getting into, if you took Mr. Marcone up on whatever he’s offering you.” He smiled and delicately cut his own food. Marcone did the same. They took small bites while I tore into mine like a starving man. I was almost able to forget that I was getting this with Marcone’s dirty money, but not quite, and the vague memory of that left a slightly bitter taste in the back of my throat. Marcone sighed.

“You act as if you’ve not eaten in months,” he told me, and his finger brushed down the back of my wrist. I jumped a little because I’d gotten used to his hand being there, but it actually doing something surprised me. I thought about that and swallowed what was currently in my mouth.

“Well, it hasn’t been that long, but I don’t think I have eaten today. I might be forgetting something, though; I don’t really know. Sometimes Murphy delivers me some kind of lunch if she knows I’m going to be working all day, but sometimes she doesn’t know, or doesn’t have time. I don’t think she came by today, but she might have come by when I took a quick nap at about three.” Marcone raised his eyebrow at me. Some people can do just one; I can’t, and people who can bother me.

“I should hope you would wake up if you heard that office door of yours rattling open.” I laughed and took another bite. I answered once I swallowed.

“I might have and just don’t remember it. Or maybe I didn’t and she just left it on my desk; I have been known to sleep-eat before. Or maybe she just didn’t come by today and I haven’t eaten. I don’t know.”

“Sleep-eat.” It was said in such an incredulous way that I had to laugh.

“Yeah. See, either I eat in my sleep or someone with a real taste for leftover takeout breaks into my apartment and raids my icebox some nights.” I paused to stuff more of the steak in my mouth. “Anyway, Terry, if you want to do whatever it is Mr. Marcone wants you to do, I’ve got a copy of the Accords lying around somewhere, and I can get one of the Hospitality Laws pretty easily. You can drop by my apartment and get it, or I can give it to Mr. Marcone and he can give it to you, or whatever, really.” He smiled.

“I wouldn’t want to take yours from you, Harry.” I snorted.

“It’s not private information or anything. I can get a new copy if I need it, but as it stands, it’s probably just scattered in a million pieces and cluttering up my subbasement. At most it’d take me an hour to get all of it together, and it’d be a nice menial task to keep me from thinking too hard, since I usually get in trouble when I do that.” He laughed.

“Alright. What’s your address, then? I’ll come by sometime next week. Ah, and your phone number, if you have one, would likely be helpful as well, so that I can give you a call before I come by.” I rattled them both off to him, and he scribbled them down in a little black address book. For the rest of the meal, I stayed mostly quiet and listened to Marcone and Powers discuss some kind of business something or another that I hardly understood. We left shortly after we all finished and got back into Marcone’s car, after which we drove Powers to some apartment building on the gold coast. He shook hands with me warmly, and possibly for a few moments longer than everything. He also attempted some extended eye contact during that, but I kept my own eyes fixed on the bridge of his nose. After that, Marcone drove us to his mansion/Fortress of Doom, and took me by the arm again.

“Marcone. I think I know how to follow you. I promise I’m not going to run away.” He looked down at his hand around my bicep as if he hadn’t even realized it was there, and I relished in being able to talk back to him again. He let go.

“I apologize, Harry,” he told me quietly, and we walked together into a wide, open room with an antique projector in the middle. I shrugged and dropped down onto the big, red, possibly velvet couch that was sitting in front of the screen. Marcone moved to sit beside me, and our thighs and shoulders touched. He didn’t call for the movie to be started right away, though; no, instead he had to talk more. “Still, Harry, I must ask that you cease… encouraging Mr. Powers. My associate or not, he is not the sort of man you’d be safe in getting involved with.” I raised my eyebrows and crossed my arms.

“Stones, Johnny, what are you even talking about?” He heaved a heavy, long-suffering sigh.

“I’m talking about the flirting, Harry. Admittedly, I am a dangerous man, but Mr. Powers… his lovers have a tendency for… they’re often hurt, Harry. I’d rather not have you in such hands.” I blinked.

“Flirting. Hell’s Bells, Marcone, what flirting? Stars, why does everyone always think I’m flirting?”

“You weren’t?” I stared at him.

“No, Marcone, I wasn’t. I don’t even know that guy; why would I flirt with him?”

“Ah. Well. I’m afraid he was flirting with you. If you don’t want him, please tell him so the next time you see him so that he won’t… get the wrong idea and begin attempting to… court you.” I had to laugh at that. I laughed so hard that my stomach ached, that I could hardly breathe, and Marcone seemed a little worried before I shook my head and stopped.

“Sorry,” I said, “Just… wow. He appreciated that I said he wasn’t ugly, and you’re acting like he’s going to sweep me off to his boudoir and rip off my corset. Anyone would appreciate being called not ugly, you know? It’s a human thing.” He sighed and seemed frustrated with me. Good. I rolled my eyes.

“Alright, Harry. Just be careful, would you?” I snickered and rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, whatever.” His arm fell behind me and he hit a button on some kind of remote, and the movie started. Surprisingly enough, it was the original Star Wars movie. I gave him a weird look and he just smiled and let his fingertips rest on my shoulder. We sat there for hours watching a bunch of old sci-fi movies, at least half of them ridiculously cheesy and stupid, but I… honestly, I enjoyed myself. I enjoyed myself so much that I didn’t even bother asking why he’d lied and said that he’d gotten in some movies that _he_ wanted to watch when he’d pretty much just stared at me the entire time. Anyway, we spent pretty much the rest of the day there, until eleven o’clock, at which point he had Hendricks drive me home. We didn’t speak much until we pulled up to my door.

“You look better, Dresden,” he told me, and I smiled.

“Yeah? I feel a lot better too.” He smiled and it made him look way too young, almost like a particularly large high school football player. That image fit oddly well with the part of him I’d only just recently created in my head, the part that was more than Marcone’s bulldog. I shook my head to clear the thought.

“That’s good. Boss looks a lot better too, you know that? I guess I’ll see you around, Dresden.” Well, that made no sense whatsoever. It probably wasn’t my place to think on it, though, so I just got out of the car and went into my house. My darling furfaces tackled me at the door, so I fed them, and then they accompanied me to bed. It was at that point I remembered the paperwork lying forlorn on my desk and realized that I should enjoy tonight because Murphy was probably going to kill me tomorrow. Mouse huffed in his sleep like he’d somehow heard my thought and I glared at his prone form.

“Shut up, mutt.” I fell asleep pretty quickly after that, but I’m pretty sure that said mutt kicked me a little more than necessary that night.   


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys all had a good holiday! Also, I did mess with the timeline a little. Elaine is still up to her ears in debt to Aurora, but Lea hasn't yet sold Harry's debt to Mab and the Summer Knight hasn't yet been killed. Elaine also doesn't think her situation with Aurora is bad enough to tell Harry about it yet.

                I woke up the next morning and poured myself a bowl of cereal, about a quarter of which I ended up sharing with Mouse since I didn’t have any milk for it anyway. After that, I went downstairs and gathered up the Accords from the various areas it had gotten scattered (I found three pages in my box with the depleted uranium, confusingly enough) and stapled it together, which, come to think of it, probably would’ve been a good idea when I got the copy myself. I then proceeded to have Bob recite the Hospitality Laws to me while I typed them up on my trusty typewriter, which I also stapled and sat on top of the Accords. After that, I just sort of plopped onto my chair and read a book for a while, Mister sprawled across my legs and periodically poking his head under the book to get me to scratch his head, and I figured I’d probably get to have a pretty good, easy, day off, even though I probably should’ve gone to my office instead. Suddenly, though, I heard a knock at my door, so I stood to answer it even though Mister got unfairly upset at me for it.

                I grabbed my staff loosely in one hand and pulled my door open with the other, but my staff fell from my now limp hand with a clatter at what I saw. A girl, or more accurately, a woman stood there, with golden brown hair and long, slender limbs. Her eyes were wide and expressive, and her lips were pulled in a thin, nervous smile. I’d recognize her anywhere, my first everything, the girl I’d once thought I’d stay with forever. Elaine. Elaine, the girl I’d loved. Elaine, the girl I’d thought I’d killed. Elaine, the girl I’d cried for. Elaine, the poor little orphan girl who died tragically in a fire and didn’t even get a tombstone. My limp hand opened and closed convulsively, my mouth hung agape, I couldn’t move. She stepped closer to me.

                “Hey, Harry,” she whispered. I swallowed the spit that had filled my mouth, felt Mouse shove his nose harshly into my hip as if he were particularly desperate for me to stop being such a loser, and managed a couple of words.

                “Elaine.” Well, one word. That’s something though, right? She smiled for real, crooked and still just a little too big for her face, a little awkward, and a certain sparkle I remembered too well took up residence in her eyes.

                “Yeah,” she said, “it’s me. It’s me, Harry.” As if that confirmation were all I’d been waiting for, as if that had been the only thing that could ever possibly hold me back, I fell forwards and wrapped her tightly in a hug. She was tall for a woman, I realized, her coltish legs having stretched up, up, up to bring her to a near six feet, and that made it far less strange to hug her as I was. It was at that moment that I understood how stupid I probably was for this, how idiotic it was to simply trust that she was who she said she was, that she wasn’t just something in a disguise trying to kill me.

                “I must be insane,” I murmured. “Please, come inside.” And she did. She stepped through the door and I shut it behind her. Mouse sniffed her and didn’t appear interested, instead just going to flop down in front of the fire. Mister just sort of raised his nose distastefully, flicked his nonexistent tail, and walked into my bedroom. I led Elaine to sit on my couch and sat beside her, my elbows on my knees and my legs bouncing nervously up and down.

                “You aren’t going to ask?” I shrugged.

                “I thought you’d be nice enough to explain.” I had a sudden pang of nostalgia, of days when we were just barely more than children, of days spent in a dark bedroom on a twin bed that was way too small to fit the both of us, of whispered conversations and whispered plans about what we would do together, what we would make of ourselves, when we turned eighteen. The woman before me now was Elaine, I knew that, but there was something about her, some integral, basic thing that had changed, that had made her not the girl with whom I’d spent all those dark nights. She seemed to be thinking the same about me. It’s amazing how something like ten years can change someone, isn’t it?

                Still, sitting so close to her, I felt the bond that we’d made, the ties between our minds, and the memory of her soul, created the night we’d given each other the universe, discovered the mortal, average magic that vanillas sometimes seemed to hog, was called into my mind. It hadn’t been the most spectacular soul I’d ever seen, the most beautiful, but I was nearly certain that it was the most special because that had been the first Soul Gaze I’d entered fully of my own will. It had looked like early spring, in her soul, spring before the flowers bloomed, but it had blazed hot as summer and the sky had shook with storms. There’d been places in the grass, too; places where the earth had obviously been moved to conceal and hide, but I didn’t dig at those places, hadn’t wanted to intrude. Had we had the same Soul Gaze now, I couldn’t help but think I’d pick at those places because I wasn’t nearly so trusting, anymore, wasn’t nearly so willing to just see what people wanted me to see. I’d been burned too many times like that. Elaine put her hand on my wrist and I did my best to smile at her again.

                “Harry, I know you well enough to know when you’re faking something, or hiding it. I thought you promised me you wouldn’t ever do this to me.” I laughed, but it sounded bitter even to my own ears.

                “I thought you were dead, Elaine. I thought I’d killed you. Do you know… Hell’s Bells, Elaine, do you know how awful I’ve felt all this time? I thought I’d burned you alive with that bast-,” I stopped myself halfway through the word because I’d promised myself long ago I wouldn’t hate a dead man, wouldn’t hate the man without whom I probably wouldn’t be half as strong as I am now. “DuMorne. You can’t just expect me to… to act like we’re kids again, like nothing’s changed.”  

                “I don’t, Harry. After all we went through together, though, can you really expect that I wouldn’t understand?”

                “I went through a lot after that by myself, Elaine. If we were talking about stuff from back then, yeah, I’d trust you with anything. I’d give you all the horrible, morbid little details you wanted. I already have, really. We’re not talking about then, though, Elaine, we’re talking about what the hell happened after. Stones, why haven’t you contacted me? Just a letter, Elaine, or a fucking phone call, something to tell me you weren’t dead!” She shook her head and set her mouth into a hard line.

                “It wasn’t ever because I didn’t want to, Harry, I can promise that. He was distracted, there at the end, and I escaped from the Thrall. I ran off as the house was burning, escaped into the Nevernever. I was disoriented, though, confused. It took me a while, a few years, to even remember everything, and after that it took a few more years for me to find you. I’m here now, though, I’m telling, _showing_ you, that I’m alive. Isn’t that something? I’m not asking for it to be enough. Just something, just that you know I’ve tried.” I felt my hands shaking and I laughed almost-hysterically and I twisted around and pressed my head into her sternum. The cold of her pentacle, the one she’d made herself because she wanted one that was a match to mine, pressed against my forehead.

                Her thin hand cupped the back of my head and my hands, always too large and too clumsy, settled like baseball mitts on her shoulders. I hiccupped and coughed and did everything I could to keep from crying, but a few tears still slipped out and stained her shirt, her skin. I shook against her for a few moments, and she didn’t do anything but keep her hand where it sat behind my head. I finally sat up and dried my eyes roughly with the back of my hand. When I spoke, though, my voice still wavered inexcusably.

                “I’m sorry,” I said. “Stars and Stones, Elaine, I’m so sorry, for everything.” Her eyes were wide and doe-like, and her smile gentle.

                “I am too. Can’t we both be forgiven?” I laughed and choked at the same time.

                “Yeah. I think so. I hope so. Do you… where are you staying?” She was about to answer when my phone rang, and she smiled impishly, like I remembered, before she lunged over me and grabbed it before I could.

                “Hello,” she cooed, drew out the “O” sound. I vaguely heard the voice on the other end, something masculine, but I couldn’t pick out quite who it was. She smiled and looked at me with a brilliant light in her eyes, mischievous and obviously painfully aware of it. “Oh, he’s around. Don’t know if he feels like talking right now, though.” The voice got a little louder and I was able to pick out that said voice really wanted me put on the line. I raised my eyebrows. “I don’t know. What would you do if I said no?” Louder still, and something similar to threats seemed to be emerging. She laughed again and handed the phone to me.

                “Hello? Who is it?” I questioned, and a deep sigh reached my ears, sounding vaguely relieved.

                “Harry, good. I was a bit worried that something had happened. Who was that woman?” I blinked.

                “Marcone? Stars, just because I have a girl in my house doesn’t mean I’m getting murdered, I promise. It doesn’t happen often, but, you know, it does periodically. Anyway, she’s not… I’m not going to say she’s not important, but it’s not important that we talk about it.” Elaine smiled.

                “Mean,” she mumbled. I rolled my eyes.

                “If you knew who I was actually talking to you wouldn’t say that,” I mumbled back. “Anyway, what do you need?” He was quiet for a second, but then he spoke, something vaguely worried in his voice.

                “Harry, have you been crying?”

                “Don’t call me Harry,” I said, “And no, I haven’t.” It was only sort of a lie, really, considering I’d only actually shed maybe three tears.

                “Don’t lie to me.” I clenched my teeth and glared at the wall and Elaine smirked like she knew something.

                “I’m not, bastard.” No more than I ever did.

                “I will come over there, Harry. If she’s made you cry somehow, I think I need to know who she is.” Some people think they know the biggest asshole in the universe, but they don’t, not unless they know Marcone too.

                “Know you won’t. It’s none of your business. Just tell me why you called.”

                “To check on you, you damnable idiot! I’ve seen what happens to you if you become upset and people just let you stew in it! You close yourself off, hide in your house and wallow in your own damned guilt for things that probably weren’t even your fault. You nearly killed yourself after that other woman left. I’m not letting you do that to yourself again. I’m coming over there.” He sounded… well, upset. Look, you don’t know how weird that is for me, Marcone sounding upset. He’s just, he never does it, never lets anyone break through the wall he’s built up around himself, his feelings, his thoughts. Marcone does open worse than I do, and that’s saying something. I don’t think I’d ever heard him actually sound like that, and his tone was made worse by how the addition of Elaine to my house, meaning the addition of even more magic, was making the line break up.    

                “That really isn’t necessary.”

                “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” And then he hung up. I kept the phone to my ear and listened to the dial tone for a couple of minutes, my mouth hanging open again, and then Elaine shook her head and pulled the device from my hand, settled it back in the cradle.

                “Can you not answer my phone anymore, please?” I asked, and she laughed.

                “Did I get you in trouble?”

                “Probably. That guy is… I don’t even know what to call him anymore. Dangerous as hell is probably a good start, though. He’s apparently coming over.”

                “It isn’t a big deal. I can make a good impression.” I bumped her shoulder with mine and grinned, let myself relax because it was Elaine, and when would Elaine ever do anything to me, really? She was… I didn’t love her how I once did, the years and the pain had seen to that, but there was still something between us, a bond created by going through the same suffering together, by facing the same demon side by side. I looked at her and I saw wetness in her eyes, saw her lips waver just a little.

                “I’m sure.” She laughed a laugh that turned into a cough, a hiccup, a choke, but she didn’t cry either. A tear or two, just one or two, nothing big, nothing important, just like me.

                “It’s been so long,” she said, “God, Harry. Do you remember everything? I still don’t. I remember you, I remember him, but I don’t remember everything he did, at least not to me. He was so cruel to you, Harry. It’s been too long. What’s been happening with you since then? Tell me everything. I know you might not want me around anymore. If I were you I probably wouldn’t, I wouldn’t want the reminder, but I’ve missed you, so much. There are still things tying us together, I still feel it.” I nodded and touched her arm.

                “Yeah, me too. I’ve missed you too. I always wondered if things would’ve been different if we… if I’d been able to do something back then, if we’d gotten out together. I do remember all of it, though; at least I think I do. He wasn’t any better with you than me, he didn’t do favoritism, and you know that. He just… I wouldn’t be who I am now without him, without that training. I still use some of the things he taught me, you know, about pain. I get hurt a lot now, I’m a PI. I get in more trouble than I probably should, honestly; hell, I started a war just a few months ago. When my… my girlfriend got partially turned. Ex-girlfriend now, I guess, since she left me,” I said, turned a quick glance to the ring box on my mantle. Dark velvet shimmered tauntingly, as if flaunting that I’d been too broke to buy anything better, too not good enough to keep her with me.

                “If she left you it wasn’t because of you, Harry. Well, maybe it was. If she’s gone Red she wouldn’t want to be around you for fear of hurting you.” I leaned against her and she did the same. The warmth was comforting, the knowledge that she was real and solid and there one of the most amazing things I’d ever realized.

                “Maybe so. She wouldn’t have been turned in the first place if not for me, though. She never would’ve gone to that damn party if she’d never known me.”

                “Did you tell her not to go?”

                “Of course I did. I brought a friend of mine with me, Michael, because I knew it’d be dangerous for me, and I knew what I was doing. Susan was always interested in the occult; she worked for one of those magazine things that cover stories about it. We met because she was interviewing me once. She didn’t know how dangerous that stuff really was, though. I told her she’d get hurt, but she… I should’ve tried harder.” She punched my jaw playfully, lightly, and smiled.

                “You’ve still got that guilt complex? Christ, Harry.” I smiled.

                “Shut up.”

                “Make me,” she replied, and it really was just like old times. The only things missing were the board games.  

                “Whatever. Your mouth is too big for me to do anything about it. Still, what’s been going on with you?”

                “Mostly just trying to stay out of the Council’s way,” she said, and I nodded.

                “Fugitive?”

                “They think I’m dead.”

                “Funny how that rumor got spread so far, huh?” She smiled too.

                “Shut up.” I smirked, and felt the light in my own eyes, felt like a child, a stupid teenager with nothing to his name and less to lose.

                “Make me.”

                “I would, but you’ve probably got cooties.”

                “You’re the icky girl.”

                “And you’re the slimy boy.” I sighed because this was going nowhere fast, and I liked bantering, yeah, but this was getting to be something close to ridiculous. Luckily, though, Marcone saved us both by knocking so hard on my door that I feared for the safety of my hinges. I really did need to upgrade that thing. I’d put it on my list of things to do when I won the lottery. I rocked up to my feet and answered it so I could avoid him having a conniption and shooting it down, which I assumed had been a distinct possibility from the way he was staring at me.

                “You have been crying,” he said, and I rolled my eyes.

                “Seeing me do it twice doesn’t make you an expert.” It was at that point that Elaine came up and decided that being something of a nuisance was the best way to deal with a confusingly angry John fucking Marcone, which I considered to be more of a suicide attempt than anything else.    

                “Hi there! Can I ask who you are?” she trilled with the most terribly saccharine smile I’d ever seen and it was so funny I could hardly hide my smile. Marcone’s face when he saw that smile, though, was even funnier. He looked like he’d swallowed a hundred thousand strangely bitter, disgustingly sour, lemons. I was pretty sure I’d have to bundle Elaine into protective custody after this, though. Marcone’s right eye twitched minutely. Elaine leaned against my side and I leaned against the wall to keep her from knocking me over. The eye twitched again.

                “My name is John Marcone,” he began slowly, as if he were talking to someone so far removed from reality as we know it that words and names were entirely foreign, and I could understand that if he’d been talking to someone from Chicago who didn’t recognize him, but as far as I knew, Elaine hadn’t been here long. Hell, for all I knew she’d just dropped into a nearby alley from the Nevernever and came here. I should’ve asked her where she’d been living. I needed to ask her again if she had a place to stay, if she needed to make use of my couch for a bit, since I’d been interrupted earlier when I asked. “Might I ask the same of you, Miss?” he stated, and the smile he wore now pulled his face strangely. I was pretty sure I’d never seen him force a smile before now, pretty sure that all the others I’d seen from him had been practiced and easy and second nature, if not entirely genuine. I couldn’t recall if I’d ever seen him show me a truly happy smile.

                “You can ask, but I don’t know if you’ll get an answer,” she said, cocked her head, crossed her arms, and Stones, for all that had changed some things would never be any different. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and Marcone flicked his eyes back to me.

                “Harry,” he began but then trailed off and allowed himself the smallest shake of his head, although he gave me a look that said he’d seen, that said he wanted to know, that said he wanted to fulfill his end of our contract. I figured it was so he could pry another favor out of me. “I’d like to know who you are, Miss. I know the majority of Harry’s associates, and I’ve never seen you before, yet here you are, in his home, as if you own it. Forgive me if I’m a bit suspicious.” Elaine’s smile turned a little more real for a split second, but then it went back to sickly sweet.

                “I’m glad he’s got people to worry over him now. He never had that before.” She said before with a particular inflection, an odd emphasis, and I knew what she meant. The time when I was in the system, the time when I was with DuMorne. Before. I wondered if that’s what she called that time, just before. I realized that I usually did, except in slightly different terms. I called it back then, I called it the past, I called it way back when, but it was the same. It was before. Or, Before, I guess. Used like that, I feel like the word deserves to be capitalized. Marcone narrowed his eyes, and I sighed. We wouldn’t get anywhere like this.

                “Come in, Marcone. We’ll talk in here; everyone walking by my house doesn’t need to know my business.” He stepped inside and I shut the door behind him, and I sat between him and Elaine on the couch in case he tried to brandish pointy things in her general direction. “Okay, look, whatever you’re thinking, you’re probably wrong.” His lips quirked up.

                “And what am I thinking, Harry?” I shrugged.

                “I don’t know. That I picked up some woman last night or this morning or whatever and now she thinks she lives here? Your thought processes are weird.”

                “Close enough to what I think, I suppose. I’m afraid I was leaning a bit further towards suspecting something a bit more… permanent, between you. You do not let strangers into your house, and you certainly do not let strangers make you cry.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed.

                “I wasn’t crying, damn it.” Elaine laughed.

                “Yes you were. I was too, though, so I can’t really tease you. Anyway, Mr. Marcone, do you think Harry and I are dating? We aren’t, at least not anymore. That was… it was a long time ago.” I shut my eyes, took a breath, and decided I should probably just say it before Marcone put the pieces together on his own.

                “Marcone, I told you about this woman before, okay? The other night, I mentioned her. She… I thought she was dead, then. I thought that until about half an hour ago, when she showed up on my doorstep. Marcone, this is Elaine Mallory.” I gestured at her widely in introduction, and Marcone did his version of gaping, which was kind of just a slight widening of his eyes and a vague slackening of his jaw.

                “Your former foster sister?” he questioned, and I nodded. Elaine waved. “She was with you when you were with that DuMorne man?” Elaine’s happy façade fell away at the name, but then I could understand that. She put one hand on my knee and one hand on my shoulder and leaned forward so she could look Marcone in the face.

                “I’m still his foster sister and I was,” she said, and I’d almost call her offended. “That time isn’t any of your business, by the way. I don’t care who you are. That was… we barely got through it,” she whispered and yeah, I remembered a few close calls. I remembered Elaine calling an ambulance for me once, remembered bleeding on the floor, remembered the scars that had been on my left arm and leg for years and years. The remnants of the worst one were still visible in the crook of my elbow, actually, pale little white lines that were hardly noticeable next to all the more recent ones I’d collected. I didn’t remember much beyond that, though, at least not from that particular scene. I couldn’t even remember what DuMorne’s excuse for the injuries was. I was pretty sure he’d said I’d tried to kill myself, pretty sure that I’d been put on suicide watch and Elaine had been locked in our room for about three weeks and  DuMorne had played with more than one nurse or doctor’s mind to alleviate them of their suspicions. He’d had me scrubbing pots for him again before the stiches came out. “It was ours.” A strange thing to claim.

                “Miss Mallory, you have been notable only in your absence since you shared that time, and from what he told me, he was alone with the man for three years before you arrived. You also allowed him to go for years under the impression that he’d killed you, likely causing him excessive amounts of needless suffering and guilt. I can’t imagine you to be selfish enough to think that he’d not talk about that time with anyone else, although I’m afraid that is only because I cannot imagine anyone to be that selfish.” It was at that point I had to step in again because no matter what, I wasn’t going to let him, of all people, insult someone like Elaine.

                “She’s already explained that to me, bastard. She fought the Thrall off and left, but she was confused and had forgotten a lot of what happened, most of her memories relating to me included. She’s only recently remembered me totally, and even after she did, it took her a while to hunt me down. You’ve got to remember that from the time DuMorne died to the time I moved here there was no record of me even existing. Don’t insult someone for something that you don’t know anything about, Marcone. Oh, and Elaine, I haven’t ever told anyone but that bastard about it, and he only knows the bare minimum.” She smiled.

                “And what’s the bare minimum, Harry?”

                “He adopted me when I was ten and proceeded to treat me like shit for six years in an effort to make me into an obedient Thrall who was perfectly willing to defend him to the death, but then I killed him.” She laughed and it sounded almost painful.

                “Bare minimum is an understatement, Harry.”

                “I told him what I needed to get off my chest.”

                “Is he special to you now?” She asked that like it was unbelievable, like it was unbelievable that maybe I’d made a life here in my little hole in the wall. Marcone tightened his jaw and lifted his chin.

                “Yes, I am.” Elaine huffed.

                “I wasn’t asking you; I was asking him. I don’t care if you think you’re important or not. Half of this fucking city probably wants to be important to him, from the way his magic feels now. I want to know if he considers you important.” I thought about it seriously, and honestly, Marcone was important. To me specifically, I wasn’t sure, but he was important.

                “He is,” I said, “At least, he’s important enough. He’s also dangerous as hell, Elaine, so be careful or I’ve got this awful fear that I’m sending you into protective custody.” She rolled her eyes and frowned.

                “I’ve never known you to fear a mortal, Harry.” I shook my head.

                “I don’t fear _him_ , and I’m a mortal, Elaine. All wizards are whether we want to believe that or not. And even if I wasn’t mortals can be frightening as hell. With him, though, I can just recognize that he’s a big threat. He owns Chicago, Elaine; he runs the organized crime syndicates around here.” That was true. Some of the scariest people, the most dangerous, I’d ever encountered, ever looked for, had been plain old vanilla mortals. Understanding dawned on her face.

                “The Gentleman,” she said, and I nodded. Marcone interrupted us.

                “What did you mean by the way his magic feels, Miss Mallory?” And the Miss had become something of an insult, now. That was certainly one of his special skills.

                “He’s stronger now than he ever was Before. His magic is partially how I found him, it’s so… it’s a beacon in the Nevernever that leads right to his doorstep. That brings up why I’m here, though. I need help, Harry.” My eyes went wide and I stopped dividing my attention between them and focused it all totally on her. Elaine needed help, my help. She needed something. I’d have to give it to her; I couldn’t let her down again, not like I had at sixteen. I had to make amends for leaving her, for essentially throwing her to whatever happened to find her first, be it benevolent or hostile. For leaving her to be the poor little orphan girl without a tombstone or a name. 

                “Anything,” I told her, and distantly I heard Marcone snarl.

                “I told you I was hiding from the Council, right?” I nodded. “They’re on my trail, though. They know someone of Council power is running around through the Nevernever. They don’t know it’s me, obviously, but they know I exist. I need you to let me stay here for a while, okay? To keep me hidden, throw them off my trail, something. I don’t want to be a part of them, Harry. I don’t want them to own me.” The like they do you went unsaid but not unheard. I was nodding before she’d even finished what she said.

                “Of course, Elaine. That’s nothing, for you. Nothing at all. I can… I don’t really have anyone in the Council I can call in a favor with, but hiding you I can do, especially since the Doom’s been lifted, finally. So long as you don’t go running around too much, they won’t look for you here. You can stay until the heat leaves off a little.” She laughed and suddenly we were teenagers again, suddenly we were back in a dark bedroom, suddenly we were alone. She lunged up and pressed her lips to mine and I think she had on cotton candy chapstick. My eyes went wide and my hands fell limp beside me while hers clutched my cheeks and then I was being yanked away harshly, roughly, by hands at least as big as, if not bigger than, my own. Elaine laughed and yeah, she had been wearing chapstick, because now the pale pink was a little smeared around her mouth. I was sure I’d have pink stains on mine too, now.

                “Sorry, Harry. Old habits die hard, I guess; looks like you really have moved on though, haven’t you? I’m glad you got passed what he always told you about… you know.” She waved a hand towards Marcone and I, towards his arms wrapped tight around my chest, and I stared. I mean, yeah, I knew what she was talking about; I’d looked at guys when I was younger, had DuMorne catch me holding hands with one from my class at twelve, and he’d yelled for hours about how unnatural that was, I was. That, I think, might’ve been when he decided to adopt a little girl. He wanted to correct my “wrongness”. Elaine had helped me learn that I like girls too, and that I liked them enough that I was able to be in a relationship with one and stop looking at other boys because DuMorne had told me what he had enough that I really did think I was strange, bad, for it. I’d gotten over it, once I’d gotten away from him, and tried not to berate myself when I caught myself looking at a man, but I still hadn’t ever _acted_ on anything. Not for morality’s sake, obviously, but simply because I wasn’t exactly the kind of guy the men I was actually attracted to wanted to take home to their mothers. Women had always been easier. And now Elaine thought… me and Marcone, of all people! Hell’s Bells, was she insane? I wiggled out of Marcone’s arms.

                “It’s not like that,” I told her. “Marcone and I just have a contract. I go to him if I want to talk about something, and he lets me take the backseat for a while. In exchange, I do him favors, like, he had me talk magic with one of his associates just yesterday.” She looked sad.

                “You don’t have to lie about it, Harry. You said your girlfriend left you, and I figured you’d already proposed to her, or planned to, from the way you looked at that ring box on your mantle. If you got some comfort from him, you don’t need to be ashamed of it. You can tell me, Harry. Don’t you remember that you used to tell me everything?” I heaved a sigh.

                “I didn’t, though. Tell her, Marcone.” He tightened his lips in that peculiar way again, like he had a few times when we were in the car with Powers.

                “Mr. Dresden and I are not in any sort of relationship, Miss Mallory. However, much like you, I’d prefer that he not get sucked in by a pretty face again and end up getting hurt by said pretty face. If he agrees to help you I’d rather he do it with his upstairs brain.” I choked because I’d never heard him that… well, vulgar. I hadn’t even known he had it in him. He raised an eyebrow at me as if he were shocked that I was shocked. “Now, however, if he wishes to allow you to stay with him for the time being, there’s little I can do about it. Still, I must ask that if anything happens, Harry, you call me and do so quickly. I have no knowledge of her and do not trust her. After it’s been so long, I don’t think you should either.” I turned my eyes away because even though I normally liked looking into his solely because I _could,_ I didn’t want to just then.

                “Elaine wouldn’t ever hurt me, Marcone, not for anything. I know her. She’s saved my life more times than anyone.” She bunched her eyebrows.

                “I’ve saved your life?” I recounted the thing with the ambulance, and during that Marcone dug nails into my arms.

                “You also stopped me from… you kept me out of DuMorne’s more volatile potion ingredients, I guess is a good way of putting it, after he found me with our friend from school, Joey I think his name was.” She nodded.

                “I remember that. That was how I found out about what he’d been telling you, and about how you liked men too.” I nodded again and Marcone kept staring.

                “You hide it well,” he told me. I shrugged.

                “It's not so much I hide it as the opportunity to be a practicing bisexual has never come up. Women are easier. I look, yeah, but I don’t touch. Hell, since Susan has left I’ve been entirely celibate anyway.” Elaine stared at me.

                “ _Still,_ Harry? After all this time and you still won’t even… Christ, it’s not like you’ll go blind! I promise, it won’t kill you.” I shook my head.

                “Yeah, it will. Energy gets expended, stuff capable of blowing up my heart gets released, and I get distracted. Much better for everyone involved if I don’t.”

                “It isn’t better for you. He was lying about that too, you know. Really it’s good for you.”

                “It’s good for vanillas. Not for me.” She sighed and looked at Marcone as if expecting him to speak up and join her crusade against me not touching my own dick. “Stop trying to get him to help you gang up on me, Stars and Stones. Now. Elaine, obviously you can stay, and it’s entirely my upstairs brain saying that, _Marcone._ For all the fun we had back then, it’s been too long and there are too many unknowns. I still love you, but not… I can’t do that, not with you, not again. As for you, Marcone, I think you’ve intruded in my house enough. I’ll… I don’t know, I guess I’ll call you if I need you. You know, probably.” He raked his hand through his hair and nodded.

                “I suppose that’s the best I’ll get out of you.” I nodded.

                “Pretty much.” He laughed.

                “Goodbye, Harry.” He stood and left, and Elaine looked at me for a while.

                “But really, Harry. Did that Susan woman ever get you to do it?” I shook my head.

                “Elaine, I don’t think she was that interested in watching me get myself off while totally ignoring her. Generally one’s partner likes to be the focus of one’s attention.” She sighed.

                “You’re too giving. Be selfish sometimes.” I was, I told myself. That night I’d gone to Marcone, I’d been selfish. I’d had Hendricks drive me there in the middle of the night, I’d had him put me up for the evening, I’d taken his clothes and slept in his bed and made him sleep in a chair and listen to my whining and I hadn’t even considered him for a second. I’d been plenty selfish that night.

                “I am sometimes,” I said. She snorted.

                “Taking the last French Fry or something does not make you selfish, Harry.” I nodded.

                “I know. I just don’t like doing it, but I am sometimes.” She shook her head.

                “Whatever, Harry. Look, I’ve got to go out for a while, okay? I need to talk to a couple of people so they know where I am, and get a little bit of my stuff.” I shrugged.

                “Whatever you want. Be safe.” I waved at her as she left, and she nodded. My door clanged shut harshly and I stared up at my ceiling. All that had really just happened became suddenly real to me and I fell limp. Elaine was alive. I hadn’t killed her and she was breathing and she was _alive._ The only person besides myself who knew everything that really happened when I was with DuMorne. I realized suddenly how much better I felt now that I knew I had someone who knew. I also realized that Elaine wasn’t going to stick around forever. I picked up my phone and dialed that familiar number, and when Marcone picked up I realized it had to have been a cell phone number.

                “Harry?” he asked me, voice frantic, and I laughed.

                “I’m alright. I just… can I call a meeting with you or something? For tomorrow. I want to tell you everything about… about Before, when I was with DuMorne.”

                “Of course, Harry. I’ll send Hendricks by at about noon, if that’s agreeable.” I snuffled at his annoyingly pretentious voice.

                “Yeah, asshole, that’s perfectly agreeable.” A dial tone greeted me again (Hell’s Bells he needed to stop with that) and I drooped against the back of the couch and shut my eyes. If I took a little nap, well, no one really has to know, right?


	4. Chapter 4

                Elaine came back long after I’d already gone to bed. I know that because it was dark outside when I woke up and she was asleep in my chair since I’d taken up the couch. A small, relatively tattered brown suitcase was settled on the floor beside her. I went over to her and shook her awake as gently as I could, listened to Mouse breathing on the floor beside the fireplace, looked at Mister on top of my bookshelf. She jolted awake with wide eyes and it seemed to take her a little bit to realize where she was.

                “You should’ve woken me up.” I spoke quietly, as if I still feared waking someone up. She grunted, stumbled up to her feet, and dropped down onto the couch without a word. She was asleep seconds later and I smiled as I picked up her suitcase (which felt to light to be full) and placed it on the chair. After that, I went into my own bedroom and recalled how little I’d been sleeping, how strangely normal it had become for me to skip a night or three and just catch up in naps. It wasn’t healthy for me, I knew that much. I crawled into my bed and fell asleep again shortly after.

* * *

 

Marcone’s POV

                I had told Harry that I would have Hendricks drop by to fetch him at noon, but then my reasons for being at his apartment at exactly six o’clock in the morning were only tenuously related to him. Truly I wished to speak with the woman, Elaine, wished to see if perhaps I could discover why she was truly there, why she was truly becoming involved with Harry again. I didn’t buy her story. I felt Harry a bit foolish for trusting it so unquestioningly. Past ties couldn’t be trusted in the present, no matter how deep and no matter how true; I’d learned that myself multiple times. Besides, there was something odd about her, something that she was hiding. I knocked on his door, my excuse for in case Harry himself answered ready on my lips, but it proved unnecessary as the woman herself answered the door, as expected. Harry hadn’t been resting very well lately; unless he’s had a bad night I had figured on him still being asleep. Elaine cocked her head and produced that same disgustingly false smile I’d seen the day before.

                “Hi there, Mr. Marcone! It’s a little early for a social call, isn’t it?” she chirped, and I shook my head.

                “This is business; nothing social about it.” She nodded.

                “Harry’s still sleeping; I’d feel bad waking him up, seeing as how he fell asleep on the couch waiting for me yesterday.”

                “I do not wish to speak with Harry. I’d like to talk to you, Miss Mallory. Would you mind stepping outside with me for a few moments?” She kept up that smile, her eyes blank and cool, and even now she was hiding something.

                “Harry said you were dangerous.”

                “I am.” She laughed, and one would almost call it bitter. She wore the same clothes she had the day before when she stepped outside with me and shut the door behind her. I raised my eyebrow.

                “People who admit to being dangerous are the slowest to kill you,” she said, and for a moment, she sounded like Harry. I decided not to point out any flaws in her logic, however. Instead I cleared my throat and stood a little straighter in an attempt to flaunt the two or three inches I had on her.

                “I do not trust you,” I told her and she laughed again.

                “What a surprise!” she interrupted, slapping her palms to her cheeks, and I gritted my teeth.

                “Don’t interrupt me. I do not trust you, and I think that you are after something. I think you are using whatever ties you have with Harry to get him to trust you. I think you are planning something. I would like to tell you that if you do whatever it is you plan to do and end up hurting him, I will kill you.” She straightened her own spine even though it seemed to cause her a touch of pain and set her jaw tightly. Something angry flashed behind her eyes but it went away quickly, replaced by the cool, blank gaze. I felt a slight pull from her gaze and recalled that special talent of wizards just quick enough to turn my own stare to the bridge of her nose. She smirked.

                “I’m a Wizard too, Johnny, you know that, right? DuMorne handpicked me same as he did Harry. Do you think I’m a weakling or something? I promise you I’m not. I could kill you with a word, did you know that? One little word, and I know a whole lot of deadly words. By the way,” she drew out the “a” sound a syllable or two longer than necessary, “hasn’t anyone ever told you not to threaten a lady?” I allowed a small smile to curl the edges of my lips.

                “I’ve always felt it was far more disrespectful not to, Miss Mallory; you are powerful and you are a threat. The fact that you are a woman means nothing. Those who are threats to me are threatened.” And it had taken a long time for me to get to this point, to deny everything my grandmother had told me so very long ago. Still, it’d also been some time since a particularly cunning woman with a propensity for small, easily hidden .22 caliber handguns and smoke bombs taught me that sexism had no place in crime if one wanted to avoid being murdered by one’s partner on a job.  

                “Maybe so. It’s a lot nicer when men won’t look at me as a threat, though; makes it easier.”

                “I’m sure. However, that is most certainly not what I am here to discuss. Tell me why you’ve chosen to reveal yourself to Harry now.”

                “This has already been explained to you. I only just found out that he lived here.” Her arms were crossed over her chest and the left one twitched up towards the pentacle around her neck. A tell, perhaps?

                “You’re lying. Why now, Miss Mallory? Has he only just become useful to you again?” She gritted her teeth and I relished in pulling a reaction out of her, in tearing her from the bubblegum sweet persona she’d been trying to rile me up with.

                “You don’t know anything about it, about either of us, the kind of bond we have. You don’t have the slightest idea of what we went through together. I need Harry now just like I’ve needed him before, and he’s needed me before too. We promised a long time ago that we’d help each other, and that we’d tell each other everything, because we were the only ones we had for a long time.” I stepped closer to her, my hand under my jacket and gripping the butt of my gun. She opened the door with one hand, reached behind it, and grabbed Harry’s staff.

                “I think I do, actually. You and Harry once cared for one another and made childish promises because you had been taught by an abusive man to rely only on him and each other. Said abusive man overcame you and failed to overcome Harry. You broke free and fled whilst Harry faced consequences for killing him, and stayed conveniently missing until now, when he’s become useful to you again. And, as long as you’ve been away, I’ll assume you’ve become quite adept at manipulating people. Preying on that promise, and whatever guilt he still feels for being unable to run away with you, is likely child’s play, isn’t it?” She pointed Harry’s staff at me and the runes glowed acidic green rather than warm orange. A wild light flashed in her pale brown eyes.

                “We’ve always used the same runes,” she hissed. “He’s hardly changed at all. Do you want to see what I can do with his foci? I prefer my own, but I don’t think I’ve got time to unpack them. You have no right to say anything about us. You weren’t there. You think that just because you know him now, just because he’s told you a little, you know anything? You don’t know anything about us. I’m not a powerhouse like Harry, but I’m strong. I can kill a mortal easily. Do you think he’d cry for you? I don’t.” I drew my gun with quick, practiced ease.

                “Do you truly want to test your voice against my trigger finger? I merely wanted to talk, Miss Mallory. You are the one that had brought it to hostilities.” She took a deep breath and the acid faded from the runes. I lowered my arm just slightly, but not totally. If she took a shot at me I wanted to be prepared to do the same.

                “Sorry,” she growled. She seemed to be refusing to look at me.

                “Lying truly does not become you, Miss Mallory. I don’t appreciate insincere apologies. Now tell me the truth; how long have you known where Harry was?”

                “A few months,” she hissed. “Alright? I’ve known for a few months. Coming here when I first found out where he was would’ve been dangerous for us both, though. I waited to make it a little safer.” I nodded, still not certain that I believed her. She’d lied about one thing, and I knew she wasn’t here only to get protection from the White Council. I’d felt her power seconds before; she was perfectly capable of defending herself from them, and from hiding herself if she so chose. She was looking to Harry for protection, yes, I could believe that, but not from the Council. Something more sinister was after her. I simply needed to find out what.

                “And why was it dangerous, Miss Mallory?” She laughed and opened the door again.

                “Harry isn’t the only one who made deals he isn’t proud of.” She stepped inside and slammed the door in my face. I turned and left, laughing inside at how the girl seemed to think I could do nothing with the information she’d given to me. Perhaps she’d been away from the mortal world for too long, perhaps she did not know that with a name, a fact or three, and the right people on the job, people like me can find out anything they want to know. I walked away viscerally pleased because I’d caught her in a lie and now I could catch her in others. Perhaps if I could prove to Harry that she could no longer be trusted then I wouldn’t have to come to blows with her myself.

* * *

 

Harry’s POV

                It was about eleven o’clock when I finally dragged my worthless ass out of bed, and Elaine, angel that she is, had made me some actual, true to life breakfast. I really don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve had stuff like toast and eggs and bacon and oh my god she’d even made pancakes! Did I really have all that stuff in my kitchen? Huh. I plopped down at the table I didn’t get to use nearly as often as I would’ve liked and started to scarf it down, Elaine watching with a small, pleased smile on her face.

                “I love you,” I told her through bites, “Oh my god I love you so much.” I folded a pancake in half with some strips of bacon inside and took a large chunk out of it. “Marry me.” She rolled her eyes at me but it was done playfully, so I knew she wasn’t really upset with me.

                “I’m not the marrying kind, Dresden. You’re not making an honest woman out of me yet.” I dropped some egg on my toast and took another ridiculously disproportionate bite.

                “I don’t want an honest woman, I want a woman who wakes up earlier than me and makes me breakfast.” My plate was becoming disturbingly empty. It made my stomach cry.

                “Don’t get used to this, Harry; this is just a thank you for you letting me stay here.” The last bite made itself a nice new home in my stomach.

                “You’re going to make me cry,” I said, “I mean, this is like, a tease. You’re teasing me. Can’t it be like a twice a week kind of thing? You know, in place of the rent I’m not asking for?” She smirked.

                “Once a week. Twice if you’re busy.” I hugged her suddenly and she seemed shocked for a quick moment, before she returned it. I stayed there for a couple of seconds before I tugged myself up to my feet. A certain melancholy darkened her pale, pretty honey eyes.

                “Do you want a place to put your stuff? I mean, like, do you want to unpack?” She smiled and the sadness fled. I felt better.

                “A spot for my clothes would be nice. I can keep my foci with yours, right?”

                “My phallic symbol storage facilities are your phallic symbol storage facilities.” She snickered and nodded. “And I’ve got a bin somewhere where you can keep your clothes. Give me a few minutes, I’ll find it.” I flipped up my rug and climbed down into my subbasement, and a head poked down the hole after me. Elaine watched with a crooked little smile on her lips as I dug around through the messy lab, and finally, under my workbench, I found the bin I’d mentioned. She took it from me gratefully once I got upstairs. After that, I washed the dishes while she unpacked her little suitcase. The few clothes that were in there were dropped in the bin and her foci, a chain and a thorn wand, were placed carefully beside my blasting rod on the mantle. It looked nicer, now that there was more there than my blasting rod and a forlorn velvet box. Elaine and I sat beside each other, each of us reading a book, until noon, at which point I heard a small battering ram crashing into my door.

                When I stood and opened the door, a revealed that the battering ram was about six feet tall with a shock of bright red hair. Hendricks? What the fuck was he doing here? Oh. I’d called a meeting with John for now, hadn’t I? Oops. Hendricks lifted his hand in greeting, and I nodded.

                “You forgot.” It wasn’t a question. I scratched my head and offered what I thought was a very polite smile. Hendricks rolled his eyes at me. “Jesus. Do you still want to go, Dresden?” I realized suddenly that I’d been running around all day in my underwear.

                “Um. Yeah. Let me go put on pants.” Hendricks made this vaguely annoyed, indignant noise.

                “Lucky Boss sent me instead of coming himself,” he grumbled, or at least I’m pretty sure that’s what he said. I was pretty far away, so I can’t be positive. My hearing is really good, though. Anyway, I went back to my bedroom and dressed, Elaine staring at me with raised eyebrows the whole time, her mouth sort of open. I was pretty sure I heard her and Hendricks talking, but I couldn’t make out what was said. I dressed as quickly as I could and came back out to leave.

                “See you in a couple of hours, Elaine; I’ve got a meeting. Try not to go out unless you have to, I can’t be sure that I don’t have anyone from the Council after me.” Hendricks shook his head.

                “You don’t.” I sighed.

                “How would you know?”

                “You think Boss doesn’t have anyone on you? Fuck, Dresden, if they found anyone else tailing you they’d deal with it. It’s a territory issue. Only one group of stalkers can be after a person, otherwise there’s posturing. Our guys’ posturing usually involves a fuck of a lot of bullets.” I blinked. So… I was territory now? When the hell had that happened? Better yet, when did I get enough stalkers that territory disputes became a thing that was a problem? I wanted to ask all this and more, preferably in front of Elaine so she could be a witness to just how painfully real this kind of thing was to me, but Hendricks dragged me out while I was still putting together all this new information. Also, I was having this really strange image of a bunch of mobsters pissing on my front lawn (okay, parking lot) so that all my other stalkers knew the area was already claimed. Also, when had I started getting stalked by the mob? Hell’s Bells.

                “Don’t go out anyway, Elaine; they could’ve been veiled!” I hollered, and I hoped she heard me before the door got shut and I got ushered over to a too familiar black sedan.

                “Boss is busy, so he’s at one of his apartments instead of the main house. I’ll drive you there.” I wondered why he thought I’d care.

                “Okay?” He sighed.

                “I figured you’d start getting antsy if you noticed me going in the exact opposite direction of there. I thought it’d be a good idea to tell you what was going on so you don’t fuck up my car and magic my organs to another dimension.”

                “Hey, I don’t have access to other dimensions! The Nevernever is this dimension; it’s just a really weird part of it that is kind of not entirely reality. Get your facts straight.” Yes, that is what I took offense to in that statement. Yes, I also realize that I probably need to rearrange my priorities. Either way, that statement caused him to stare at me for an uncomfortably long time while we were, you know, driving down a very crowded, traffic-ridden Chicago highway. Not that I thought he’d get a ticket that he actually had to pay for or anything, but still, I didn’t really want to die in a traffic accident solely because I said something dumb and broke Hendricks. “Also, I know I’m pretty and all, but can you please watch the road?” He broke free of his apparent stupor with a sharp shake of his head and turned his attention back to the road. “By the way, this is your car?”

                “Who the hell’s did you think it was?” I grinned.

                “I figured it was a company car. Black sedans, you understand, come standard in the Criminal Underworld Welcoming Package. I’ve heard that for fifty bucks extra you get a dead body in the trunk and a cement shoe design kit, but that hasn’t been corroborated yet.” A startled laugh broke from his throat and he shook his head.

                “Definitely back to your old self, aren’t you Dresden? Gotta be honest, I missed it, a little.” It felt like I’d been run through with an icicle. Had I really been so different that even the local mob boss’ guard dog had noticed? Stars and Stones. I hadn’t ever thought it’d been all that bad.

                “Aw, Cujo, quit it. You’re going to make me tear up.” I feigned wiping my eyes and he snickered.

                “Don’t stain the leather, Dresden.” Now I was wondering when Hendricks and I had gotten friendly enough that we could mess around with each other like this. It was almost like we were friends, but that was nearly as ridiculous as saying I was a coward or that Murphy was tall. We turned down a relatively thin, deserted road and drove into one of the middle class areas of town, a place kind of like where Michael lived except there were apartments instead of houses. We pulled up to one as innocuous as all of the others and Hendricks led me up to the seventh of twelve floors, to apartment 11-C. He knocked rhythmically in a way that could have just been habit but was probably actually a sign to Marcone about who was knocking. The man answered promptly, dressed down in a white button down with the top two buttons undone, mussed hair, and dark jeans. I waved at him idiotically and he gave me this odd little smile that I’d call fond if I were more generous.

                “Has he been good, Mr. Hendricks?” The red headed battering ram turned mountain smirked up at me.

                “As good as can be expected, with him. He was sarcastic at me the whole way here, said some stupid shit that’d probably get him shot if I were anyone else, you know.” I bowed at my waist and would’ve tipped my hat if I’d had one. “Asshole.”

                “Idiot.”

                “Please,” Marcone said, and it sounded vaguely desperate. Apparently he didn’t want his lead bodyguard and his… what was I to him? I didn’t know. His contractually obligated Wizard, I guess. Whatever. What was I trying to say again? Oh, yeah, he didn’t want his guard dog and his me getting reduced to arguing five year olds who’d just learned their very first swear words. “Harry, please come in. Mr. Hendricks, your partner called me about fifteen minutes ago. She is quite adamant that you, in her exact words, get your ass over to her apartment and pick her up so that she can do her damn job.” Hendricks took on this look of blatant horror and pathetic fear. I reached over to him and clasped him on the shoulder, a look of what I hoped was understanding on my face.

                “I’ll send roses,” I told him, “even if I have to use my very last twenty to do it.”

                “Thanks, Dresden. I feel so much better now. Asshole.” He seemed to really like calling me an asshole. I have no idea why. He walked away with a certain trudge to his step that made me think he was quite certain he was going to his funeral right now. I could almost believe it. Marcone took me by my wrist and drew me into his apartment. I had a sudden, vaguely disturbing image of the witch leading Hansel and Gretel inside her cottage. His touch was gentle, though, and his smile kind, so I was at least eighty-three percent sure that he wasn’t planning on killing me on that particular day, and that was better than what I got with most people so I didn’t think I should complain. He really was giving a, “come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly” kind of vibe, though.

                “I’m afraid I haven’t got somewhere as comfortable as the bedroom here. Will this do?” he questioned, and in some ways he actually sounded nervous. I gave him my most skeptical look.

                “Johnny, I’m sure it’s fine. I mean, I don’t need feather beds and silk sheets to spout my issues all over you. That couch right there looks fine.” He nodded and led me over there, took a seat. After a moment’s indecision I sat beside him. He twisted me around so that my legs from the knee down hung over the couch’s arm and my shoulders and head were supported on his thighs. I blinked. “Whatever, then. I guess your legs are plenty comfortable too.” He laughed.

                “I should hope so. Now, Harry, what would you like to tell me about him?” Right to the point, of course. That was his favorite way to be, direct.  

                “Everything,” I said without hesitation, “So long as it doesn’t leave this apartment. Elaine’s the only other person alive who knows all of this and I want to keep it that way. I love my friends, I do, and I trust them but they can’t… I can’t tell them this. They’d take it badly. Michael, he’d pity me, probably try twice as hard to get me to start going to church with him and Murphy... she’s got enough problems of her own, she doesn’t need mine, and I could get in trouble for telling her some of this anyway. Which, I could get in trouble for telling you about it too, but for some reason I’ve got the feeling that the Council would be less likely to go after you than her.” He settled one hand on my stomach and another in my hair, but neither of them moved. I kept my breathing deep and steady.

                “Would they see her as less of a threat than me?” He seemed to understand all of a sudden that I wanted to ease myself into what I was saying.

                “Yeah, kind of. They don’t respect mortal law enforcement, or mortals in general, really. The only thing about mortals most Wizards fear is mass mortal force, like an army, and they would know that Murphy couldn’t bring something like that to the party. The most she’d be able to get is SI, and there are apprentices on the Council that could swat them all down like flies. You, on the other hand, you could get an army. You could be a threat, and the majority of the people on the Council are cowards. They’re a lot less likely to go after someone that could actually cause them some damage, especially now that the war’s on.” He seemed oddly, viscerally pleased that he could be a threat to the Council. I assumed he was oddly, viscerally pleased when he could be a threat to anything, except someone under the age of eighteen.

                “Was DuMorne a threat to them?” I shrugged.

                “He was a former Warden, and he was of Senior Council power if not Senior Council age. He wasn’t a threat, though, not in the way you’re thinking of. One Wizard could never take down the whole Council; it’s impossible, just like it’s impossible for one vanilla soldier to kill a whole vanilla army. Eventually, no matter how good they are, someone’s going to get in a lucky shot and bring them down. If he’d succeeded in Enthralling me and Elaine, though… well, that might’ve been a different story altogether, especially if he’d allowed us to infiltrate. He could’ve used us to tear the whole thing down. That might’ve been the plan, I don’t know. Either way, the Council never looked in on us no matter how much Black Magic he was doing because they trusted him. He’d helped bring Kemmler down, when he was a Warden, and he’d trained with and under Captain Luccio. He was a Council hero, even though he took Kemmler’s… thing.”

                “Thing?”

                “There are some details I’m leaving out for your safety and mine. Just, suffice it to say that Kemmler had something really dangerous and really illegal, and DuMorne took it when Kemmler was killed. The Council thought he’d destroyed it, but yeah, no. Anyway, he knew he could get away with doing whatever he wanted with us, so that’s what he did. He never really beat me, not like how a lot of foster parents do. I never had to sleep outside and unless I did something really terrible I was always fed. He was, at least at the beginning, the best foster father I’d ever had. I loved him. He was my entire universe for a long time, actually, the only one I listened to. He taught me my very first fire spell.”

                “You use fire despite associating it with him?”

                “Fire is beautiful, Marcone. It means a lot more to me than DuMorne. Anyway, yeah. We were in his office because he had a hearth in there and he had work to do. He was telling me the spell and I can’t even remember it now, but I couldn’t do it. I tried and I tried and I tried, but I couldn’t, and I was getting tired. I knew he wouldn’t let me quit until the hearth was lit, though. This was all before Elaine, by the way. But anyway, my dad taught me some tricks before he died, and one of them was how to start a fire and not let anyone see the lighter, so that’s what I did. DuMorne knew what I did, of course, and he… he told me I was better than that. No one had ever told me I was better than anything. You wanna know what I did after that?”

                “What?” he asked me, voice quiet.

                “I changed his words. I said flickum bicus and I started the fire. You know, like flick your Bic? That’s where I got that spell from. Still, he asked me why I changed the words and I told him that it was so I would always remember that I was better. He was so proud of me then. I lived to make him proud of me back then because that meant he’d scruff my hair like my dad did and sometimes he’d even give me a hug or something. That day, though, he did something different. He gave me my first present, the first thing I’d ever gotten that said something besides ‘for boy’. It was a baseball mitt. He played catch with me after he finished his work that day, and the next day we started to practice shielding.”

                “Shielding? I wouldn’t have thought talking about that particular trick would make you sound so sad,” he told me. I nodded and swallowed, my eyes fixed on the ceiling, but that wasn’t what I really saw. No, instead there was DuMorne’s backyard, there was DuMorne like how I remembered him, a slight, blonde man with noble features and a knife cut mouth that hardly ever twisted into a smile. The pitching machine stood cool and mechanical in front of him. I nodded again.

                “Yeah, well. Shielding practice was the first thing we ever did that made me think that maybe something was wrong. He used a pitching machine and it pitched hard enough to break bones. I did break a few, mostly just my fingers, but I did fracture my ankle and my arm once. And my nose. I learned to shield in two days, though. He was proud of me for that, too.” I choked up, I can admit it. I’d once loved it so much when he was proud of me. It had been my only goal for a while. I’d loved him. Oh, Hell’s Bells, I had loved him. In a sick way, maybe I still did, maybe I still loved that memory of him when I’d thought he loved me too.

                “It’s alright, Harry. I promise you there is nothing strange about the way you felt for him, or the way you still feel for him. Now, you say he never beat you. What about your story about the ambulance?” I shrugged even though the angle made it hard.

                “That was later. He was different during the last year I was with him, his temper was shorter. Plus Elaine was learning a little faster than I had, and she listened better, so he was realizing that for all my power, I was probably more trouble than I was worth. I was fast becoming a hindrance rather than a help. I can’t even remember what I did to make him pull the knife on me, but I think it had something to do with dinner. Looking back on it, he was probably trying to threaten me onto my belly more than anything, and just cut me accidentally. If I had to guess I’d say he was planning on doing some kind of binding ritual based on scarring, but I wiggled too much to let him do it. I was bigger than him, by that point.”

                “But before that there was never any traditional violence done to you?” I shook my head.

                “Not before that last year, no. That last year he kicked my ass around once a week or so. Before that, though, the most he ever did was slap me a few times, and that was only if I fucked something up pretty badly. He’d do the same to Elaine, when she came. I took most of her beatings for her in the last year, though. Even if she’d done something I’d take the blame for her, because I knew DuMorne would expect that I’d done whatever it was anyway, and hell, I was in love with her.” His hand slid down to my cheek and his thumb stroked over my bottom lip.

                “What about what Miss Mallory was mentioning, the… your bisexuality?” I shut my eyes and let loose a tiny, squeaky little sigh.

                “He was… a traditionalist, I guess. He thought being gay was wrong and told me so a lot. The boy I held hands with, I wouldn’t call him a boyfriend or anything, but he and I were good friends and I thought he was cute because he played soccer and he could pick me up and help me climb on the monkey bars. I’d never heard DuMorne scream before that day, and I’d never thought he could run so fast as when he did to throw that boy out of the house. He didn’t hit me for that either, though, he just told me that it was impure and wrong and all that other bullshit. That was probably when he decided to adopt Elaine too. He accomplished what he wanted, though; Elaine and I eventually got together. Before we did, though, I actually did get kind of a boyfriend. I brought him home and Elaine and DuMorne walked in on me kissing him. He threw the kid out and he really did hit me for it that time. He lectured me all night about how I was backwards and disgusting for that, about how he cared about me but not that part of me. He said to cleave it off. I did, for a while, because I was ashamed and me doing that made him not proud of me. I got over it a while after I moved to Missouri, though. I just haven’t been with any men because it’d be sort of inconvenient, and because I got so wrapped up in Susan so soon after I came here.” Something dark shone in Marcone’s eyes, something dark that I hardly recognized, much less understood.

                “If he was still alive, I’d kill him for you. All you did to him, he deserved it, you know. He deserved worse. Men who abuse children are less than worthless and less than weak. They are pathetic. That man, Harry, he was less than a quarter the man you’ve become, the man you were. Nothing you did was unwarranted and the Council was wrong to punish you for it.” I laughed and my eyes felt a little wet. His thumb swiped under them gently and I leaned into the touch before I realized how stupid that was and pulled away a little. It was affecting me, though, him calling me blameless for what I’d done, back then. I didn’t get that often.

                “It wasn’t the act so much as the method,” I hissed, “I used magic to do it, and it was magic I’d learned from a fairy.” He seemed confused, so I explained. “I ran away before I killed him, and he sent an Outsider after me. I got rid of it, but I was hurt pretty badly. My fairy godmother, the Leansidhe, found me and trained me in exchange for my life. I used what she taught me to light the house up. Anyway, the Law says that one must not kill with magic. It wouldn’t have mattered that I killed him, it was just my weapon. Really though, I had a good case for self-defense. It would’ve been easy if I hadn’t used dark magic when I was with him, and if Lea hadn’t taught me a little. Added to that, the Merlin himself performed the Soul Gaze on me to test my guilt, and he already distrusted me because of who my mother was. I was lucky to just get the Doom, and I would’ve died if Ebenezer hadn’t have been there.”

                “They are a group of worthless cowards who couldn’t see the world around them if it hit them, Harry. They’re oblivious to all but their own agenda. I’m certain that your mother was lovely.” I really did have to laugh at that.

                “I don’t know enough to answer that, John. I never met her. All I knew about her I learned from stories my father told, and all that told me was that he’d loved her dearly. My mother was a Wizard, and she was against the Council. She did something called Gray Magic, which is this stuff that’s right on the border of stuff that’ll get your head separated from the rest of you. She spent a lot of time in the Nevernever with Lea. I don’t know if I would’ve liked my mom, but I sure as hell respect her. She was strong.”

                “I imagine she was just as strong as you, and just as amazing. All you’ve done, Harry, I don’t doubt that it was because you had to. I hate that you’ve had to do some of the things that you have because they make you so sad, but your soul, Harry… my god, it’s beautiful. It’s not pure, but it’s beautiful. Your magic, your life… I couldn’t imagine anything more fascinating. I reached up and touched his arm and smiled. He knew how to talk, I’d give him that. He knew the perfect words to say at the perfect times, he knew exactly what to say to every person he spoke to.

                “You’ve got a tiger soul,” I told him, and he seemed shocked. Those green eyes were a shade darker than usual, not so much money as summer leaves. “A tiger soul behind tiger eyes. I bet my Sight would give you stripes. Stones, Marcone.” I laughed and smiled and the hand on my stomach tightened into a claw. I moved my hand to his chest and pushed, which made him loosen the grasp. “Let me up, John.” He did. “You don’t know every story, but you know all the important ones, okay? The others are… I wouldn’t call them boring, but they’re not quite so memorable. You know all the important parts.”

                “Thank you for telling me all this, Harry, no matter the danger.” I couldn’t help myself. I threw my arms around his neck and dragged him in for a hug that he returned slowly and cautiously.

                “Thank you for listening to my bullshit, Johnny.” I puckered my lips and smacked a wet kiss on his cheek and his eyes went wider than I’d ever seen them. I grinned and patted his cheek as I stood and walked out. He stared at me as I left and a strange feeling of almost power overtook me. I thought on it on my walk home, and didn’t get anywhere close to an answer, so I just decided to kind of file it away with the other twisted puzzle pieces that made up John Marcone in the poor broken down filing cabinet of my brain. Besides, Elaine had lunch on the table when I got home, and what kind of guy would I be if I was focusing on anything besides the delicious sandwiches and really, where in my kitchen was she even finding this stuff?     

 


	5. Chapter 5

Elaine’s POV

                After Harry returned from his “meeting” and ate the sandwiches I’d scrapped together we sat together for some time. I simply watched him for the majority of that time; I almost wished he’d changed, but he hadn’t. For all his words about no longer trusting so blindly, he was the same as before. He believed every word I told him solely on the basis that I was me, that I was Elaine, even though that didn’t mean anything. Marcone was smarter. That bothered me; he could ruin everything. Not that I thought Harry would actually believe him, but he could cause me trouble either way. I felt a sharp pang of pain from somewhere deep in the back of my skull, my deals and my missions weighing heavily on me. I noticed that when Harry spoke now he used big, wide gestures that reminded me of a cartoon character, his words fast and sometimes a little blurred together, although that could’ve just been a product of him living in Chicago for so long.

                That was the main change I noticed in him, the way he carried himself. When we were children he’d been small despite his height, his words timid and soft, and he’d always held his hands clasped in front of him or on his lap when he spoke. Now he was larger than life and almost confident. He knew now that he had power, that he didn’t have to be held under someone’s thumb. I recalled him on the floor bound tight in a circle, I recalled that I’d put him there and I recalled the look of fear and betrayal in his eyes and I recalled that blood from DuMorne’s cup had stained his upper lip when he told me he was sorry. He’d nearly been bound then and there but he’d gotten away. He always was stronger than me. He was far more suited to Summer ties than me, yet I was the one with those and he was the one with Winter. I wished things could have been different too, sometimes, but it was too late now. I’d do what I had to do because I had always been the selfish one. I touched his arm and smiled at whatever ridiculous story he was telling and his eyes sparkled because he’d been telling the truth, he really did still love me.

                He wasn’t the only one that could feel guilt, though. I was about to betray him a second time, draw him into a battle he had no business being drawn into. It wasn’t about him. Maybe it had never been about him. That didn’t matter; it hadn’t been about me either. My guilt didn’t matter. I’d do what I had to and maybe he’d hate me for a while but if he lived, he’d eventually forgive me. He’d forgive me and welcome me back to him with open arms and wide black eyes and that stupid little smile and I’d stab him in the back again the second I had to and we’d do the whole song and dance over again.

                I was selfish. I told him to be too, but he wouldn’t. He’d made a life for himself here, in this big soulless city; I knew that because he told me all about his friends. He told me about a cute, tiny little blonde named Murphy who kicked more ass than pretty much anyone he’d ever met, he told me about Michael, the “Fist of God” who wielded the holy sword Amoracchius, which was actually Excalibur. He told me about the wildest cases he’d worked here and I told him that he was lucky and he agreed. We did this until it got dark outside, at which point he made us both a frozen dinner, apologizing profusely because it was all he had, and I smiled and told him it was fine even though it tasted like cardboard on my tongue. Most things did, though, now that I’d been dining on Aurora’s food for so long. I was Summer, Harry was Winter, the Summer Knight was dead, and it was about to become his problem. He wouldn’t even care at first, I knew that, because he’d think he was doing it all to help me, to save my life, and he’d do anything for me. The thought made me sick and it continued to make me sick long after he went to bed. His phone rang at about one in the morning and I picked it up. Aurora’s voice was like music on the other end.

                “Is he yet oblivious?” she questioned me.

                “Yes, Lady. He hasn’t got any idea. When would you like him to become informed?”

                “Thou must wait until he is accosted by Queen Mab for his debts, and then thou may draw him into our fray. Queen Mab will request it as well, but he will be unlikely to want to do it for her. If you ask it of him as well, however… he will play his role nicely.”

                “You still promise he won’t end up dead, right?” She simply laughed.

                “His death is not mine goal in this foray, Elaine, but if it becomes unavoidable then he will die. I hold no great love for him, and thou should not either.”

                “We went through a lot together.”

                “And that time is over now. No longer are thou and he children. Thou cannot pretend that that time and those feelings may be brought back to thee simply because thou will it. Do what thou were sent to do and do not betray me. Thou knows that thou life is in mine hands.” I clenched my teeth. I’d hoped he wouldn’t have to die. I couldn’t help but feel, though, that even if Harry’s death wasn’t her goal, it’d be a nice bonus for her. There wasn’t a choice, though. If Aurora wanted Harry dead, Harry would die either way, whether now or later. I couldn’t change that. I’d do what I had to so I could keep myself alive, so I could repay my debts.  

                “Yes, Lady.” She gave a pleased sort of giggle as she cut off the connection and I put the phone back in its cradle. I looked at the bin Harry had given me for my clothes, looked at my foci on his mantle, and I curled up on the couch. He was too stupid. He was too trusting. He was too _kind._ I slept, that night, but I didn’t sleep well, and Harry actually woke before me the next morning. He gave me a Pop Tart with a brilliant smile when I awoke and told me he wasn’t a very good cook. It was burned on the bottom and the sweetness was cloying in my throat, but just like the dinner from the night before I ate it and that just seemed to make him painfully happy. I told him I’d do the cooking from now on and he laughed. For a while I was able to imagine that everything was the same as before even though I knew that we’d never be the same again.

* * *

 

Harry’s POV

                I thought I was just going to spend the rest of the next day with Elaine too, like I had been doing, but suddenly she stood up and said she had to go for a while. I was a little confused, but she promised me she would be as inconspicuous as possible and she left under a veil. The apartment was oddly lonely without her there, and I realized that I’d just been getting used to having another body in there with me. Mouse hopped up onto the couch and sprawled across my legs in order to fill up the empty space and Mister was laying somewhere vaguely beside my head. I still don’t know how he manages to perch on that painfully thin part of my couch, but he manages and he seems to like it, so I don’t bother him. That, though, was when my phone suddenly started ringing off the hook. Admittedly, it startled me, so I ended up falling off of the couch and onto the floor. I also got a brand new headache for my troubles because I smacked my head against the coffee table during this process. I did finally manage to grab the phone, though.

                “Drs’den,” I grunted, my voice a little slurred thanks to my wonderful new head injury.

                “Oh, did I wake you up? My apologies, Harry.” Well, I recognized the voice as belonging to Powers, but his actual words flew right over my head for an embarrassing amount of time until I realized that oh, yeah, I probably did sound tired because of that slurring, or at least drunk, and accidentally falling off of a couch is probably not the most common reason for someone’s voice sounding like that, is it?

                “You didn’t, I promise. I, um, fell off the couch because I wasn’t expecting the phone to ring and I hit my head on my coffee table. No need to apologize.” A confused, vaguely uncomfortable, length of silence filled the popping line.

                “Alright,” he said, finally breaking the quiet, which I was grateful for. “I was simply wondering if now would be a convenient time for me to drop by and pick up those documents you offered me.” I nodded thoughtlessly because I was still a little dizzy before I remembered I was talking to him on the phone.

                “Yeah, now’s fine. Come on by, I don’t have any plans to leave the house today.” He laughed, rich and bubbling and a little higher than I’d expect from someone as large as him.

                “Is that so? What a shame. I’d been planning on escorting you out for lunch.” I whipped my head over to the cheap little clock on my bookshelf and yeah, actually, it was about lunch time. I also realized that after having only eaten a stale Pop Tart today I was pretty hungry. Lunch would be good, and if someone else was paying then it’d be even better. I still hadn’t discovered the inter-dimensional pocket from which Elaine was plucking the mythical delicious foods and I knew that if I looked around in there the best I’d find would be some ham that had a fifty-fifty shot of being within its expiration date and some chips that had passed that particular date at least a month before. Cases hadn’t been coming in too much lately, okay? Plus I still hadn’t managed to dig myself out of the hole I’d gotten into when I stopped working for so long.

                “Are you paying?” I asked, almost ashamed at how hopeful I sounded, but damn it, I’d been mooching off of my friends enough lately; I was lucky that they’d stayed with me through all that stuff with Susan anyway, and I sure as hell didn’t need to push that luck by taking so many handouts from them.

                “Harry, you sound as if you’re in need of a few free meals. Have you been having trouble?” I could imagine his eyebrows knitting together as he spoke and I shook my head rapidly.

                “No, no, I’m doing okay. Work’s just been a little slow, but it’ll pick up again when Halloween gets a little closer. I can manage until then. Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate a free lunch every now and again, though, if that’s what you’re offering me.” I recalled Marcone’s warnings, but I didn’t really see how they were relevant. He’d been seeing an interest that simply wasn’t there; a lot of people did. Hell, that White Court asshole I’d met at Bianca’s party, Thomas, had thought Michael and I had a thing, especially after I wasn’t interested in that Justine girl he had with him. Of course, pretty much everyone there had thought Michael and I had a thing, so in hindsight maybe I should know better than to take a big guy in armor along with me as a date to a party where people don’t actually know me.

                “Well then, yes, I’d planned on paying. It is generally traditional for the person who is doing the inviting to do so.” He was sounding like Marcone again. Hell’s Bells. I shook my head to clear that thought away.

                “Oh. Okay then. Yeah, sure, I’ll have lunch with you then.” I could feel his smile through the phone.

                “Wonderful! I’ll be by in about a fifteen minutes, alright?”

                “Groovy. Bye-bye, then,” I told him, and I actually got to hang up the phone first. It was only about five minutes later, as I was bringing the copies of the Accords and the Hospitality Laws upstairs, that I realized that the apartment where Marcone had dropped him off the other day was at least an hour away from here, plus he’d said he wouldn’t be able to come by until next week, and it was certainly not next week yet. I should’ve found that more suspicious than I did, really, but he seemed like a nice enough guy, and I saw no reason for him to want to kill me so soon after meeting me, so I figured he’d probably just been out on an errand and discovered that he had a little free time to spend on magic related activities like this. I settled the thick sheaf of papers very optimistically beside my Coke can and went back to my book for ten minutes. It was at that point that someone began knocking politely on my door and Mouse stood up from his place by the fire in order to alternate staring between me and the door. Mister seemed somehow disappointed in him. I stood and answered the door, Mouse leaning softly against my hip in a politely gentle fashion. Powers gaped at him.

                “Harry,” he said, trailing off and giving the creature a wary glance. I laughed.

                “He won’t eat you unless I tell him to. You’re a good doggy, right Mouse?” He huffed and head-butted my hand, so I scratched him behind his ears. “Still, stop scaring the guest. Go take a nap in my room or something.” The dog seemed to nod and did so, his big nose pushing my bedroom door open. I heard my bed creak in protest when he jumped up on it. Mister leapt from his perch on the couch, threaded between my legs a few times, and then jumped onto the space atop my bookshelf that I kept clear specifically for him. If it happened to give him what was likely a nice angle for pouncing onto Powers’ head, well, that had to have been a coincidence because my cat was not that mischievous.  

                “Is your cat as well behaved as your dog, Harry?” he turned a quick eye towards the creature and I laughed.

                “Well, he hasn’t killed anyone yet, so I guess so. Hell’s Bells, man, don’t be so jumpy. I promise they’re well behaved. Still, if you’re in a hurry, the papers are right there. Just let me grab my coat,” I said, having actually remembered to get dressed this morning. I slid the coat from the rack and surreptitiously snuck my blasting rod onto the little loop in the sleeve. It thumped against my wrist comfortingly as Powers and I left, the papers looking heavy and too white in his hands. I locked my door and raised my wards behind me, but even still I was able to hear it when Mouse jumped off of my bed. I also heard it when he did something that displeased Lord Mister and got himself pounced upon. I had a small smile on my face as I climbed into the passenger seat of his car, a long thing made of heavy steel that I was pretty sure would be classified as an antique muscle car. The leather inside was soft and supple, pliant against the push of my body. I relaxed quickly, especially when he flicked on the heater that made my previously somewhat chilled fingers and toes toasty and loose.

                “I hadn’t thought you meant creatures that large when you mentioned your pets the other day, Harry,” he said, a small smile on his face as he pulled out of the lot. “Especially not for such a small apartment!” I laughed.

                “Well, the cat was my fault; I picked Mister up when I moved to Chicago. Found him bleeding out in an alley when I was on my way back to wherever I happened to be living at the time and couldn’t stand to leave him there. He’s been with me ever since. Mouse, though, wasn’t exactly my fault. See, this monk hired me to rescue a box of puppies from some demons, and I did, but Mouse jumped out of the box they were in while I was returning them and I didn’t see him, so he ended up coming home with me. I wasn’t expecting him to get nearly so big; I used to be able to fit him in the palm of my hand!” He laughed.

                “Yes, well, I can see you care for them, but haven’t you considered moving to a larger place that would perhaps be more accommodating for them?” I shook my head.

                “I couldn’t afford it if I wanted to. Like I said, Mrs. S gives me massively reduced rent because of all the facilities she doesn’t have to maintain for me, plus that place has a subbasement for my lab. It’s got all of my rugs and all of my furniture and all of my knick knacks. It’s home,” I said, and he nodded.

                “I suppose I can understand that. Still, if ever you change your mind, I can get you a lovely deal on a far larger place.” That made me flinch a little; I didn’t know exactly what Powers did, but I knew he was involved in Marcone’s shadier operations. A meal, yeah, I could take that without too much guilt, especially if I was desperate enough, but an entire apartment? Yeah, no. I shook my head.

                “Thanks for the offer, man, but I don’t think that’s ever going to happen. My apartment’s crowded, especially now, but it’s _mine._ ” I knew it was probably a little strange, but the fact that my apartment was mine was a big reason why I was unwilling to part with it. Once something became mine I wanted to keep it for forever, to hold it close because I’d never owned all that much. I got attached to things when I got to call them mine. He cocked his head at me and spared me a sidelong glance.

                “Especially now?”

                “Yeah. An old friend is staying with me for a while, so she’s taking up my couch now. The Creatures don’t mind it too much, though, since Mouse usually just lies by the fire place and Mister likes it on the bookshelf.” He looked intrigued by the information, appeared to file it away, and nodded with a smile, this odd little glitter in his eyes. We chatted about mundane little things, surface topics, until we pulled up to this really swanky looking sandwich shop. I mean, the lettering was done up in gold over a bright red canopy and the brick was new and clean. Stars and Stones. He got out of the car much more quickly than me and got around to open my door almost before I got my seatbelt undone. He held out a hand to pull me out of the car and I took it since we were parked in front of a meter on the side of the road and the positioning made it difficult for me to completely unfold myself by myself. Sometimes being so tall sucks, by the way, just in case you didn’t know.

                “I’m certain you’ll like this place; they’ll serve whatever you like, from the most simple to the most complex. I thought it would be better than taking you somewhere else where you’d be uncomfortable.” I offered him a smile and decided not to mention that everywhere in the Loop made me somewhat uncomfortable because damn it, at least he was trying and he was probably so out of touch with being broke that this place seemed low class. He kept hold of my hand as we walked inside and seated ourselves at some place by the window, and even though he had to let go for a second to let me get into my seat, he grabbed it again over the table as soon as it became available to him. My eyes flicked over the annoyingly tasteful pale yellow menu, and I decided what I wanted as soon as I saw steak sandwich. I continued to look, though, and discovered that, miracle of all miracles, they had Coke.

                A pretty brunette waitress came by to take our orders, her smile sweet and her words consistently polite, and I told her what I wanted. Powers seemed pleased when he ordered his own meal. I jerked my hand a little but his grip tightened, so I just let it be. It was a weird twitch to be sure, but hey, to each his own.

                “I can’t believe they have soft drinks,” I said, a soft snicker in my voice, and he smiled again.

                “Another reason why I chose this place. So, Harry, why don’t you tell me a bit about what brought you to Chicago?” I shrugged.

                “I don’t know, really. I mean, my dad and I lived here for a little while, when I was about five, but we had to move pretty quickly. I did love it, though; I think the best show I ever saw him do was in Lincoln Park. Plus he always talked about meeting my mom here, so that probably had something to do with it too.” He nodded and propped up his chin on his free hand. Our drinks were dropped off by the same pretty waitress and I slurped some up immediately.

                “You were close with your parents?” I shrugged again and attempted to avoid looking sad even though that question caused something of a pang in my heart.

                “My mom died when I was born, but yeah, my dad and I were close while he was alive.” He appeared embarrassed.

                “I apologize if I’ve touched on a sensitive area. You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to, of course; I won’t be upset. Did your father die recently?” I shook my head.

                “No, I was six when he died. I was in foster care for most of my life,” I paused to sigh, “Don’t look at me like that, jeez. It’s not that big of a deal; I had it pretty good, to be honest. I got put with a nice old man, Ebenezer, when I turned sixteen, and I lived with him in Missouri until I turned eighteen and came here.” He nodded and took a sip of his own drink, coffee I think.

                “I believe that leaves ten years unaccounted for.” I gritted by teeth and looked at the table.

                “Nothing eventful went on back then, beyond me meeting that friend who’s staying with me now.” He politely dropped the subject and our food arrived. He finally let go of my hand so I could tear into the sandwich, which was incredibly satisfying. We started chatting again, over the meal, a lot of it about magic, and I told him about some of my more exciting cases, putting in a lot of detail about the Sells case, when I met Marcone, since that seemed especially interesting to him. He kept his word and paid when we were done, and then we left together. He walked close enough to me that our shoulders touched, and again I felt just a twinge uncomfortable but I was pretty sure that he was just a touchy kind of guy. I mean, Michael would sometimes act similarly, depending on our respective moods, so it couldn’t have been all that strange. We kept up easy conversation as we drove since he was a pretty charismatic man who was generally easy to talk to, but I still noticed pretty quickly that were going not at all towards my apartment. I suddenly understood why Hendricks had warned me the other day because I freaked out just a little.

                “Harry, please, calm down! We are just going towards my own apartment,” he said, wide eyed, and he looked so sincere and so sorry that I relaxed. I swallowed and nodded.

                “Sorry,” I told him, “I just… I’m jumpy. Sorry. Why are we going there, though?”

                “I had thought you could look through these documents with me, so that I might be certain of my understanding.” Yeah, that sounded reasonable enough.

                “Okay. That sounds fine. Just… you know, warn me next time, alright?” He laughed and nodded.

                “Certainly, Harry.” He pulled into a real parking lot instead of a gravel mess like the one in front of my apartment and walked up to the top floor with me. The place was large and clean inside, with chromed fixtures and fancy electronics. I had him unplug them all before I came in. He didn’t have a threshold, by the way, but really that was pretty expected. I took the papers from his hands and dropped onto the couch, after which I began to go through the first bit of the Accords, but suddenly the papers were free from my grasp and my body was being pressed hard into the soft couch. I yelped, I can admit it.

                “Hell’s Bells!” I yelled, and Powers nipped at my jaw. I thrashed and tried to toss him off but he grabbed my wrists and held them above my head with bruising force. Marcone’s words rushed back to me and how the hell had he seen this when I hadn’t? Maybe I still had it wrong, even though I couldn’t see many other reasons for… this. “What are you doing?” I shrieked, and he just laughed. His heart pounded a steady drumbeat against my chest and his thigh managed to worm between my legs.

                “I’d think it would be obvious, Harry; I’m touching you.” I thrashed again, but he was bigger than me. I didn’t want to magic him off, though, not yet. That might seriously hurt him, and if this was all some misunderstanding then I didn’t want him injured.

                “Okay. Okay. Yeah. Uh. I think you should probably stop doing that and get off of me.” He bit at my lower lip and planted a kiss on me before I got my head turned. I kicked out wildly and twisted my hips, but he stayed firmly where he was.

                “Why? If this is about Mr. Marcone then I assure you that neither of us will face any retribution.” Why would I care about Marcone right now?

                “No. I just want you off of me. I’m giving you a chance to do it yourself before I start breaking bones.” Another laugh, this one almost taunting rather than polite or kind like I’d been getting used to and his nails were digging crescent shaped holes into my wrists. For the first time I thought maybe I should’ve listened to Marcone, and that was probably the weirdest thing ever.

                “Harry, don’t play coy, as if you don’t find me attractive. You’ve given plenty of signs that you want me. There’s no need to fake it,” he whispered into my ear before he caught the lobe with his teeth and moved to lick at my neck. That sensation, along with the heavy weight holding me down, the harsh grip on my wrists, made me remember Bianca’s crew. I screamed and he hushed me and I writhed and jerked and pulled and my thoughts were a blur. I tried to gather my magic but I couldn’t concentrate enough to do it and I should’ve done it earlier because his free hand was tugging insistently at my jacket and the horror blurred my thoughts and from this angle his teeth were so sharp and really he looked a little like a few of them had.

                “Don’t, please, please, stop, get off of me, get off of me, get off of me,” I chanted, and I actually did feel his grip loosening, feel his weight shifting, but then his door crashed open and a snarling missile of John Marcone came barreling through. He grabbed Powers by the back of his suit, yanked him off of me, twisted around, and slammed him into a wall. Hendricks stood in the doorway, mouth agape and hands held out, as if he’d been planning on needing to help. I leapt off of the couch and immediately began bouncing on the balls of my feet. Hendricks came closer to me and I held my hands out towards him. “Don’t. I’m really on edge and sometimes my magic goes a little haywire when I’m like this. I don’t want you to get hurt if I accidentally fire a shot off.” He nodded and shut his mouth, then shivered.

                “Goddamn, Dresden,” he mumbled, “I feel that shit from here.” I nodded and kept bouncing, rubbed at my arms, and I’m pretty sure I looked like nothing so much as a frightened animal. Marcone was snarling and Powers seemed to be trying to explain something but no one was getting actual words out. It sounded like a baby babbling and an animal getting ready to eat someone. I took a deep breath and counted backwards from ten, envisioned something quiet and calm and safe, envisioned home and my pets and Mac’s Ale, pictured playing Monopoly with Michael and his family, pictured Aikido training with Murphy. When I let the breath out I felt the knots of my magic loosen and dissipate. Hendricks stepped warily closer and I nodded to tell him it was fine. “C’mere, Dresden,” he said, and I did. I stepped closer to him and let him throw his arm over my shoulders. Finally Marcone and Powers seemed to be making actual progress on saying words.

                “What the hell were you doing, Powers,” Marcone spoke, low and dangerous, perfectly level, almost inhuman. Powers’ lower lip quivered for a few moments before he spoke.

                “I was getting off of him, Mr. Marcone, I was, I was getting off like he asked.” Marcone feigned letting him go for a second before he slammed him back against the wall even harder than before. His head cracked sickeningly against the wall.

                “That so, Powers? I don’t think he’d sound so desperate if he’d only asked you once.”

                “Thought he was playing hard to get at first, Mr. Marcone, I didn’t know, okay? He just freaked out all of a sudden so I was about to let him up, I swear. Mr. Marcone, I wouldn’t do him if he didn’t want it; you know that, you know I don’t do that.” I took a shuddering breath and shut my eyes.

                “He’s telling the truth, Marcone, he was moving. Beyond being on top of me he didn’t do anything to make me react like that. Just a bad memory, it’s fine, he didn’t know. Let him go.” Powers turned his gaze to me and gave me a grateful smile.

                “Thank you, Harry,” he said, but then Marcone pressed his forearm into the other man’s throat. Hendricks’ arm stayed steady over my shoulders, but even he had this vaguely worried look on his face.

                “Talk him down, Dresden; no way in hell I could do it right now,” he whispered at me, and I wondered why he thought I’d have better luck.

                “John, come on,” I tried, “He’s been perfectly nice to me before now. It was just a misunderstanding; he thought I was interested when I wasn’t, I told him to move, and he was about to when you barged in. He wasn’t going to do anything to me.” Marcone was shaking.

                “He could have. He could have hurt you.”

                “I can take care of myself. If he’d gone too far you know I could’ve thrown him across the room.” The forearm finally fell and Marcone stepped away. Powers slumped to the floor gasping for air. Marcone turned and rushed towards me, slapped Hendricks’ arm off of me, put his own where it had been.

                “Harry, Christ,” he whispered, “I told you not to get involved with him. I told you and you blatantly ignored me. You’re lucky I had a meeting with him today, Harry, or who knows what would’ve happened to you?” I growled and twisted his arm off of me.

                “Bastard, I just said I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years, okay? I had that.”

                “That’s why you were screaming, correct? And begging?”

                “He licked me, bastard, and that reminded me Bianca’s vampires so I freaked out. I could have calmed myself down before he got any farther, and even if I couldn’t have he was getting off!” He clutched my jaw between two fingers.

                “Why the hell would you trust him to bring you here? Look at your wrists, Harry, I told you. I told you that his lovers got hurt and you wouldn’t listen to me. I know him, Harry, you do not; he is not a good man. He is unpredictable. He likes men like you. I wouldn’t have even allowed him to meet you if I could have avoided it. Why wouldn’t you listen to me? Come with me, I’ll take you home,” he told me, his eyes pleasantly soft, but I shook my head. I didn’t like being treated this way. I should have known that letting him see me weak would be a bad idea; now he was treating me like I was helpless, and I couldn’t stand for that. Powers slowly stumbled up to his feet and Hendricks watched him guardedly.

                “Harry, stay here. We’ll talk about this, alright? I’ll not try anything else unless you explicitly offer me, yes?” he questioned me, one hand held out to me. A bruise in the shape of Marcone’s arm was already blooming darkly into his skin.

                “That wouldn’t be a good idea right now. You’ve got my number,” I told him, and then I whipped around and walked out. Marcone and Hendricks tried to chase after me, of course, but a quick Hexus to their car made it impossible. I felt a little bad about it, of course, since I was pretty sure that that was Hendricks’ car, but I’d pay him back for it later. I didn’t want to look at Marcone just then, like, at all. I really just wanted to go home and read my book some more, maybe call up my friends and see if one or more of them wanted to come over and have some pizza or something. They’d all probably want to know that Elaine was back anyway.

* * *

 

Hendricks’ POV

                Boss was pacing around the parking lot with his hands behind his back and his teeth gnashing together. I jokingly warned him that he’d end up chipping one of them, to calm him down, but he acted as if he hadn’t even heard me. I put in a call for a new car and it arrived pretty quickly. I was glad of it; Powers had promised revenge for Boss embarrassing him in his own house, and while Powers was usually slow to action I knew he had guns tucked away in his apartment and I didn’t really want to risk any retaliation with Boss in the state he was in.

                He had it bad for Dresden, I knew that, had always known that, but I hadn’t really known that he had it quite this bad. Hell, I hadn’t even known that this part of him I was seeing now, this angry, jealous, pent up, anxious, desperate _thing_ still existed in him. He didn’t love often or well, he’d told me that before. I knew that was true now. He’d managed to piss Dresden off with what he’d done, by treating him as something to be protected, and Dresden holds grudges like no one’s business. I couldn’t let that go on, couldn’t let Boss stay so… not himself. It’d get him killed, especially if Powers really did try something. I wondered if “relationship counselor” was anywhere in my contract. I should probably check; if it isn’t I think I should get some overtime for this shit.

                I pulled Boss up to the mansion and let him off, and just so he could show me how off his game he really was, he didn’t even ask where I was going when I pulled out of the driveway and left again. He didn’t even watch me go. I drove as fast as I could to Dresden’s house and I hoped he was home, but I was honestly surprised when he actually answered the door and let me inside. He raised his eyebrows at my raised eyebrows.

                “You didn’t do anything. You just work for the guy,” he told me, and then he even went so far as to grab me a beer. I took it and popped the cap, smiled when I took a sip and let the bitter liquid flow down my throat.

                “I guess.” I shut the door and he took a seat in a big recliner. I sat on his couch. I downed another quick gulp. “Look, Dresden, Boss isn’t doing what he’s doing because he thinks you’re weak.” Dresden bared his teeth in a sharp, biting laugh, and since when had he been able to pull off that particular expression and not look ridiculous?

                “Sure seems like it. I’ve told him a lot, Hendricks. Nathan. A lot of stuff that probably would make me seem weak to someone who doesn’t know me, but he’s seen me fight. He knows I can take care of myself and it pisses me off that he’s acting like I’m so… like I need his protection. I don’t.” I nodded.

                “I know. Hell, half the time I’m pretty sure he could use your protection. He’s a dumbass more often than people think. Him acting how he is has nothing to do with your strength, though.”

                “What does it have to do with then, huh?” he hissed. I sighed.

                “It has to do with him wanted to protect someone he cares about. He saw a threat to you and he dealt with it like that, overreacted to it, because he cares about you. He does the same damn thing with me, like if someone’s got a gun to my head or something. He sees the both of us as his, you know? He’s not good at caring about people and he doesn’t do it all that often because of that. I mean, he sees you as his in a different way from how he sees me as his, but it’s the same basic concept. He protects what’s his with everything he’s got, even if he’s a little crazy about it. Don’t be pissed off at him for that.” Dresden’s hands clenched into claws around the arm of his seat.

                “That’s hard to do, Nathan. I’m not his. I don’t belong to anyone; I haven’t for a long time. I don’t want to be his. I don’t want his protection. I want our contract, that’s it.” I shook my head; he was being unreasonable. He was always being unreasonable.

                “You’re acting stupid. Boss cares about you, a lot. I’m his friend, but you… you’re something different. You’re something special. You’re you, and there’s something about you that fascinates him as much as it pisses him off. Don’t throw off someone loving you so casually, Dresden; think about it. And if you don’t think you like how he feels about you, then maybe you should think about severing that contract. You’re just giving him false hope if you don’t care about him too.” I let him think on that for a few seconds before I stood and left, the remainder of the beer in my hand. He stared at me when I left and probably stared at the door for longer. I ran a hand through my hair and drove back to the mansion. When I got there and parked the car I found Boss just sitting in the foyer, head in hand and staring at the phone. I ended up dragging him to bed at about midnight that night.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry’s POV

                Hendricks was getting way too good at surprising me. I wondered if I should even believe everything he was telling me. I figured that it would be a bad idea, though. If I suddenly started going around thinking that I was somehow _special_ to Marcone then I could get myself in a lot of trouble and he might not show up to back me up. It was likely better for everyone involved if I remembered that he just saw me as a good business investment and I just saw him as someone who would let me drop my control for a little while. Whatever Hendricks was seeing just wasn’t there, and I had a feeling that Marcone would react badly to anyone being held down like I had been. I wasn’t unique because he’d tried to hurt someone for me. Maybe Hendricks was right about one thing, though; it’d probably be good for both of us if I cancelled that contract. I was creating ties with someone I didn’t need ties with, and I didn’t need people thinking I was in bed with the mob again. I’d call him later. For now, though, I needed to do something else, something tedious and easy. I stumbled up to my feet and drove to my office mindlessly. I think that might’ve been the first time in my life that I was ever actually grateful for truckloads of paperwork. It certainly wasn’t the first time I was grateful for Murphy, though, but that day her face was a particularly brilliant blessing.

                “Hey, Murph,” I told her. My smile probably wasn’t up to its usual crooked, face-splitting standards but it was likely good enough.

                “Harry,” she said, twisting easily to take a seat on my single, creaky wooden chair. “You’re actually getting work done, I’m surprised with you,” she said, laughter bright in her blue eyes. She must’ve had a good week. A bag with the stark Burger King logo appeared on my desk and I clapped joyously.

                “What would I do without you?” I questioned, digging into the bag to pull out my Whopper. It smelled awesome even though I wasn’t particularly hungry after the steak sandwich from earlier.

                “Starve to death, probably, you idiot,” she told me, her arms crossed and a smirk tugging up one side of her lips. She really was in a good mood and I cherished it for its rarity. She’d been having some trouble with the higher ups lately, no small part of it because of me, but I appreciated that she went through it to keep me on the payroll.

                “Decent chance of it,” I said, “So, did anything happen or are you just being my guardian angel today?”

                “I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re still doing alright after all that’s happened with Susan, and I know that case we had a few days ago really hit you hard. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you that legitimately pissed off at someone, and it… Harry, you know I worry about you.” I nodded.

                “Yeah, I wasn’t… well, that night I wasn’t doing too hot, but I talked it out. I feel a lot better now. I still hate that I was too slow, but I know I did what I could. I’m not Superman, no matter how hard I try to be.” The obvious shock in her eyes surprised me. Was I really… was getting over something really that strange for me?

                “That’s really…” she couldn’t seem to find the words. “I don’t want to say adult of you, but that’s the closest I can think of to what I’m really trying to say. Not blaming yourself is weird for you.” I thought about that for a moment, but then I shook my head.

                “No, I still think it’s my fault. I’d have saved them if I’d figured out where they were faster. I just realize that there’s next to no way I could have found them any faster than I did. I’m human no matter what I want to believe sometimes.” She smiled and settled a hand on my shoulder for a split second before she drew it away.

                “It’s still a step,” she said, and maybe that was true. I’d never absolve myself of all guilt; there was too much of it and I’d done far too much wrong to do so. I could probably stand to address it, though, to learn to deal with it as I had this. Maybe then I’d live a little longer. The mere idea of that made me snicker a little. Like me having a lengthy life would ever be a legitimate possibility.

                “Yeah,” I said, “Now, I’m pretty much done with all of this. If you want to wait about twenty more minutes I can give it to you to take with you.” She nodded.

                “That sounds alright. You want to come by for an Aikido lesson in a few days? You haven’t been in a while, so you’re due for a good ass kicking.” I snuffed and lifted my head as if I had something to be defensive about.

                “Maybe I’ll win this time.” She raised her eyebrows. I shrugged. “I am good at cheating.” She snorted, and stretched across the table to punch me gently in the arm. I laughed and punched her back before I went back to my paperwork. I got it done in ten minutes instead of twenty and handed it to her.

                “Thanks, Dresden. I’ll see you later.” I nodded.

                “Of course. Bye, Murph.” She was gone for about five minutes when I started packing up my stuff, and I was about to leave when someone else walked in.  

                She was a beautiful woman with snowy white hair and a smart suit. She was also not human. I knew that as soon as I saw her; she was simply too perfect, too beautiful, too untouchable. Her face was far away and remote, an alien sort of beauty that no human could ever hope to replicate. Her smile was biting as she walked over to me, a delicate sway to her hips but a power to her steps. I backed down in the face of her, reminded suddenly of a hurricane, an earthquake, a tidal wave. She touched her pointer finger to the center of my chest and my first thought was of how _cold_ it felt. I looked down and saw the reason: a thin sheet of frost had formed around her fingertip. Winter. She was Winter.

                “Hello, Harry,” she told me, and something in her voice, in the way she carried herself, made me know who she was.

                “Mab,” I said, breathless and lost and in way over my head because when was it any different, really? 

                “Smarter than they say,” she murmured, and her icy finger traced up my chest, my neck, my jaw. The trail of frost followed it and I had to clench my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. She stepped away and the frost melted, much to my joy. “You know of your debt to the Leansidhe, correct? My dearest handmaiden.” I cocked my head.

                “Of course,” I said warily, took a step back from her. She laughed.

                “That debt is now no more. She has transferred it to me.” No. No, no, no. I owed Lea my life, quite literally. I owed her my whole self. I didn’t want to owe that to Mab. Why had Lea sold my debt? In her own sick way, I’d thought she’d cared about me. What was this? Was she lying? No, she was a fairy, she couldn’t lie, and she’d spoken directly. “So many thoughts rushing through your poor little rat race mind! Do not worry yourself so, my pet. You owe me not all that you owed her. Three favors, little wizardling, three favors to be repaid at your discretion. You may refuse any request I make, but three favors must be given by the time of your death, else the debt will transfer to your nearest kith or kin.” I swallowed. Owing three favors to someone like Mab was… it wasn’t favorable on me doing that dumbass breathing thing. This week just kept getting better.

                “Why did Lea sell my debt?” I mumbled.

                “Because she had nothing else to sell. Now, my first request, Mr. Dresden,” she said, and I shook my head.

                “No.” She laughed.

                “You must listen to it, whether you accept it or not. The Summer Knight has been killed. I would like you to find the culprit.” I blinked.

                “Shouldn’t you be, you know, happy about that?” She shoved me into my chair and sat across from me.

                “I do not want a power imbalance, and that is what this will cause. That will mean war, and now is not the time for Summer and Winter to battle.” It was always something, wasn’t it? I didn’t want to do that, though. Getting involved in fairy politics was hazardous at best.

                “Why don’t you just use your own Knight to figure it out?” She sighed.

                “My daughter chose our current Knight and he is far less than useful. You would be far more suited to this job.” I shook my head.

                “I’d rather not. Fairy politics aren’t my thing.” I felt my hand reaching for something and felt it close around cool metal. My letter opener. It was heavy in my hand as I lifted it and I didn’t want to and I fought but it was beyond my control. I brought it down hard on my other hand and screamed, but somehow Mab muffled the noise. The injured hand was twitching and my blood was brilliant scarlet. She smiled and waved her hand. I was suddenly free to pull the thing from my hand. I twitched my fingers to make sure I sure could still move them and supposed I should count myself lucky that I could. My blood stained my desk and the letter opener had been dyed red with it.

                “As you can see, while I cannot force you to agree, I can make it very difficult for you to do anything else. Be my Emissary to the Summer Court, Harry, find out who killed the Summer Knight, and consider one of your favors cleared.” I didn’t want to. My hand hurt. This had to be the best damned week ever.

                “Okay,” I said. She slid some clean white bandages from the small purse hanging on her shoulder and handed them to me. I didn’t thank her, but I did use them to bandage up the wound tightly. The bleeding eventually stopped once I got three or four layers on it, so I handed the bandages back to her. She took them and left. I cradled my head and wondered how the hell I was supposed to do this. Maybe… maybe Elaine could help. I stood up and left my office, found it to be dark outside, and sighed. I wanted to go home. I opened up my car door with my good hand and nearly yelled out at what I saw when I did.

* * *

 

                Elaine lay there bleeding on my front seat, stab wounds deep and obvious in her flesh. She groaned at me when she saw me and I crouched immediately, looking for something I could do, but there was nothing and there was a lot of blood and I wished suddenly that I knew at least one healing spell but I didn’t and I couldn’t help.

                “Elaine!” I yelled because that was all I could do.

                “Harry,” she whispered, “Harry, I need you to take me to Aurora.” Aurora? That was… Aurora was the Summer Lady, right? Why would Elaine want to see her?

                “What? Elaine, that doesn’t-“ She interrupted me.

                “Harry, please, just do it. I promise I’ll explain later.” I nodded and carefully picked her up to place her in the back seat. She hissed and snarled and whined the whole way, totally consumed with pain, and then I climbed into the driver’s seat.

                “Where to?” She rattled off how to get there and there I went, despite being nervous since I’d just become Winter’s Emissary. Elaine listed in and out of consciousness the whole way there even though I did my best to keep her talking. She was out when we got to where Aurora was, though, so I had to carry her inside. I ran fast even though her feet thumped almost painfully against my thigh on the way, and her blood stained my coat. I brought her inside and Aurora was easy to find. I tried not to look at her when I handed Elaine over, but once she had Elaine settled and started healing her she took my arm and pulled me to my knees. She cradled my head in her lap, her fingertips pressing against my scalp.

                “How… tangled. You poor boy. Pawn of Winter, pawn of men, pawn of beasts. So tired and so pained. Here, rest upon me. You are safe here,” she told me, and I managed to fight against her influence long enough to fire off a question.

                “Who... who killed the Summer Knight?” She cocked her head.

                “I do not know who caused the death of Reuel, dear Wizard. Won’t you rest?” I shook my head and fought a little longer.

                “Is… is Elaine going to be okay?” Her statues were beautiful, I noticed suddenly. One especially, one of a girl, looked nearly so accurate as to be real.

                “Most certainly. It appears that she has had a rather counterproductive encounter with Winter’s Knight, my poor little Emissary. It was good of you to bring her to me. Now, however, is the time for you to lose your troubles, little Wizard.”

                “What about the balance? The… the power balance.” She stroked my hair and pressed harder against me, desperate to knock me out, but I stayed aware.

                “It is broken. The Mantle was stolen upon my Knight’s death. Because of this imbalance, I plan to attack Winter on Midsummer. You may tell Queen Mab as much if you wish. Now, dear, please rest.”  

                “No… the Mantle… who stole the Mantle? Where is it now?”

                “I do not know.” And that was that. I was out. The world turned dark and peaceful and I think that for the first time since Susan left I felt like folding sunshine. It was fake, though, this wordless calm. It was an illusion. I preferred… I liked the little bubbles of safety John built with me better. I liked that real comfort. I liked talking, not covering, not hiding, not destroying. This was no better than how I always was, no matter how nice it felt. I didn’t want to stare at the world through cotton eyes. I wanted to… I broke free from her hold and found that hours had passed. Elaine was sitting up and gazing at me sitting there on the floor like a dog. I hated myself for being forced down there and managed to rock up to my feet, even though the haze made me dizzy. I noticed distantly that my hand had begun to bleed again, that it had already soaked through the gauzy white bandage. I stumbled and caught myself on Elaine’s shoulders. She grabbed my biceps.

                “Why didn’t you… Elaine, why didn’t you tell me?” I asked her, and her fingers tightened. She gave me a steady, sad look, her eyes wide again, and my feet made me trip once more. She kept me upright.

                “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t want to involve you. This stuff is dangerous. You’ve gotten hurt enough for me.” I shut my eyes and yeah, I could understand that. I had kept my loved ones out of a lot for those very reasons. I wouldn’t be upset with her for doing something that I would’ve done. I nodded and swallowed thickly, then she stood and helped me stay upright.  

                “Okay,” I told her, “It’s okay. Come on, Elaine, come on. Let’s go home, okay?” She smiled and petted my hair and we left together with Aurora’s cat slit eyes staring after us.

* * *

 

                When we got back to my apartment Elaine helped me inside and lay me in my bed even though by that point I was feeling better. She looked as whole and unharmed as ever. I hated the Winter Knight for hurting her, though, and hated myself more because I was tied even more deeply to Winter than before, now, because of this damned favor. My hand throbbed as a reminder of my promise.

                “She’s the one who found me when I escaped into the Nevernever,” Elaine whispered in my ear. Her hand gripped mine. “I shouldn’t have dealt with her, but I’d have died if I’d refused. She took care of me.” I squeezed her hand and shut my eyes.

                “I don’t mind; it’s not your fault. I’ll help you, okay? I’ve made bad deals before too. Mab owns my debt now, my godmother sold it. She has me looking for Reuel’s killer. I can get you away from Aurora while I do it, I promise,” I told her, and she smiled, kissed my cheek sweetly. I smiled and soon after I slept.

* * *

 

Elaine’s POV

                He was a fool, and he’d always been one. My Lady had felled him with a touch despite his fighting and the bliss on his face as he’d settled his head on her legs had almost hurt. Aurora could take any pain and turn it to such beautiful feelings, sensations, and for Harry to look like that… he had a lot of hurt. That wasn’t supposed to matter to me anymore, however; I knew now that Harry had become Winter’s Emissary that he’d die in this whole mess. He’d die trying to prevent my lady’s plans. Growing attached to him again would only serve to hurt me, and I’d found my place now, again. Aurora had promised me safety, and that was all I needed. The blood on Harry’s hand, seeping through his bandage, stained his sheets. I rewrapped it thoughtlessly and threw the bloody bandages into his fire. 

                He still trusted me. He knew I’d lied and he still trusted me. I was bound to Summer and he still trusted me. I wondered how many knives I could dig into his ribs before he stopped. I’d heard many times before that trust was meant to be a fragile thing, and yet his stood before me like an iron mountain. I wanted to shake him and scream at him and tell him just how many times I’d betrayed him over the years. He thought that he’d thrown me to the wolves when he left me with DuMorne but really I’d been a wolf myself, and he a sheep. A sheep with fire at his fingertips and enough height to make him a threat to many, but a sheep nonetheless. He was, at least, a sheep with friends now, though, a sheep with enough feral wolves around him to help keep him safe. The mob boss, Marcone, was particularly devoted to the job, as he’d shone with his little visit. I didn’t much care. He was too unwilling to make Harry angry with him to do all that much good because Harry trusted me, Harry thought he knew me, Harry would do whatever I asked and smile for getting the privilege. The thought made me almost sick. I gazed at his fire all night, that night, instead of sleeping. Holding concourse with Aurora, Aurora of life and of light, always invigorated me. It was rare that I managed sleep after meeting with her.

                I made more of the food I’d brought with me from the Nevernever that morning and when Harry awoke he ate as ravenously as always, as if he was never fed. I questioned why he never asked where I was getting the food but supposed it to be just another product of his foolhardy trust. After breakfast it took much convincing and arguing to get him to let me leave, but I kept at it because I was supposed to meet with Slate and discuss the plans for Midsummer, discuss how Winter’s Emissary would be taken care of. He wanted me to do it. I wanted no part in it. Chances were we’d work to a compromise and end up doing it together. I hated that man more than any other I’d ever met. Aurora had him enthralled with her, though, with her body and her drugs, so I knew he at least wouldn’t betray me. When we met one side of his face was still raw with burns, raw with Aurora’s anger, and he seemed pale. Mab’s brand was stark on his neck and I wondered how his betrayal went unnoticed.

                He spoke with me crassly and I allowed it with a smile because I knew he wouldn’t dare touch me despite having the right. He’d felt the sting of my power more than once, the shock of my lightning. The pleasure that sending him flying brought me always made me remember DuMorne with some disgusting mixture of shame and gratefulness, admiration. Depending on the day, Slate reminded me of him, if weaker and lacking the same finely tuned control. We spoke and screamed and argued in the hotel room he’d booked, but finally our plans were worked out, Aurora’s plans finalized. He offered me a _meal_ with animal lust in his eyesand I threw my glass, still half-full of water, in his face. It shattered and thin splinters buried into his burns. I smiled when I left, but I didn’t bother going back to face Harry. Instead, I spent the day creeping through Chicago alleyways and wondering why Harry had so much love for the filthy, mortal, human, amoral city.

* * *

 

Marcone’s POV

                The sadness of Harry being angry with me, of him spitting his particular brand of venomous words in my face, compounded with the anger and annoyance of being totally unable to find a damn thing on a woman named Elaine Mallory. According to every source I had, everything I could find, the woman may as well live in total nonexistence for all the traces she’d left. It was as if she hadn’t ever been born, hadn’t ever been in foster care, and even when I found record of Harry being adopted by someone with the name DuMorne, I could find no later records of him taking in a girl of the same age. I couldn’t find her _birthday,_ much less her lies.

                Hendricks walked in on me snarling at the screen, at the papers, in front of me, and settled one gigantic paw on my shoulder. It felt heavier than normal.

                “Boss. You’re gonna drive yourself insane with this. You’ve seen how little exists on Dresden and he’s out in the open. Don’t you think that a Wizard like Mallory who wanted to hide would be able to do it?”

                “There isn’t even a birth certificate,” I said, almost amazed. Hendricks nodded.

                “She doesn’t want anyone to know she exists, Boss. You know you won’t find anything.”

                “I have to keep him safe.”

                “The only way you’re getting anything on her is if you get it from the horse’s mouth, Boss.”

                “If you believe so, then fetch her for me. Find her and bring her here.”

                “If she’s with Dresden you know that isn’t going to happen.”

                “She probably isn’t. Check the streets. If you don’t find her, I’ll not be upset with you, but look.” He nodded and left, loyal to a fault, and he knew how important this was to me. He knew how much I truly cared for Harry. He was, perhaps, one of the only ones who did. I realized suddenly how badly I needed more eyes, more contacts, on the supernatural front. If I could not get Harry to work for me, with me, I’d have to find someone else, someone who could get me information like this when I needed it. I wouldn’t be caught so unprepared again. Despite the hopelessness of it I kept digging until my phone rang. I answered it and when I heard Harry’s voice on the other end I nearly collapsed with relief. Perhaps he’d forgiven me. Perhaps we could continue on how we had been. I didn’t want to lose what I’d gotten from him, the closeness, the openness, he’d allowed me.  

                “Hey, Marcone,” he said, and then seemed to have a thought, “John. I think… look, can you come by my place? Just for a little while. We need to talk about... well, we need to talk. And, uh, try and think about what you want. I owe you a favor for that last one, one of the small ones.” I’d forgotten that he owed me for that, honestly, forgotten that he owed me at all for anything. I’d been getting plenty of pleasure in the mere fact that he was sharing his past, his life, his fears, with me of all the people in the world.

                “Certainly. I’ll drop by soon,” I told him, and I heard his smile in his voice.

                “Thanks. This is just… yeah. I’ll talk when you get here. Bye.” He hung up and I did the same. I snatched my jacket from the back of my chair and swept out of my home with complete silence despite the way my guys stared, despite the questions some of them ventured to ask. I got into my car and may have broken a speed limit on the way to Harry’s apartment. When I knocked he was quick to answer and my eyes went immediately to the white bandage around his hand. He saw me looking. “Workplace injury,” he told me as he stepped aside to allow me to enter. His cat, once I sat, was quick to jump into my lap and Harry gave the beast a fond smile as he closed his door and sat beside me.

                “What is it you’d like to speak with me about?” His words seemed to catch in his throat.

                “I don’t belong to you, Marcone,” he finally managed, “I don’t. I never will because I’ll never belong to anyone again. I promised that to myself. I want you to stop treating me like I’m weak. You’ve seen me weak, yeah, and I respect that you haven’t used that against me, but you know I’m not some fragile little flower you’ve got to protect. I don’t like you treating me like I am. I don’t let anyone do that, and I appreciate that it’s because you… care about me, but I don’t like it.” I couldn’t begrudge him this, not really. I understood that it made him edgy when someone defended him and I knew the reasons why, but I could not change an instinctual reaction in me.

                “I realize that you do not belong to me, Harry; I have never claimed nor thought that you were. There is, however, a vast difference between someone being mine and me owning them. I do not own you, Harry, no one does, but you are mine. I understand that it upsets you whenever anyone shows the slightest inkling of a desire to protect you, but that is simply how I show affection.” He seemed confused.

                “I don’t see the difference, Marcone.” I sighed.

                “You call your friends ‘your people’ do you not?” He nodded. “But you do not own them. They are yours, but not your possessions. It is the same thing. You are one of my people.” Somehow, that actually seemed to work, and it shocked me nearly as much as it did him. 

                “Oh. Well. Still. I don’t need… you know. That much protection. I can look after myself. I just… look; I don’t want you getting too attached to me, okay? I just got Murphy back on my side, and I can’t lose her or any of my other friends, not for some comfort. I think we should sever that contract. I’ll still fulfill my last favor, but I’m not coming to you again.” I froze. I’d worked so hard, tirelessly, desperately, to get Harry to give me an inch, and now he was speaking of snatching that inch, that bit of progress I’d finally managed to make with him, away from me. I could hardly stand it. I snatched his elbows and forced him to look at me. A spark of something similar to fear lit up his eyes for a split second before it was replaced by anger and defiance and indignation.

                “I will not give it up, Harry. I refuse. I’ve gotten this single piece of you, and I will not relinquish it, not now.” His lips peeled open just a little, formed his mouth into a tiny “O”. I could feel myself shaking.

                “Marcone?” He questioned, then sighed. “It’s not because I don’t like it, or appreciate it, or anything else, but Hendricks dropped by the other day and it got me thinking about what’s really going on here. I don’t know what your endgame is, I don’t know what you’re playing for, and I don’t know what you really feel for me. He seems to almost think you love me. If I can’t give you what you want, I don’t want to feel like I’m taking advantage of whatever feelings you may have. The more I look at this, Marcone, the more I think you’re playing for keeps.” He… understood? He’d gotten all of that? I could hardly believe that his shield of obliviousness had finally fallen.         

                “You are correct, Harry, on all fronts. I want you to be with me for forever. I do love you. I have loved you since we met.” He stared at me and coughed.

                “Oh. Well, fuck. I was just bullshitting you to get you to tell me what you were actually doing. This is… I really don’t know what to say to that.” I pressed his back against the back of the couch, placed myself as close to him as I dared, and offered him a smile.

                “Let me try. I don’t ask that you love me as well, not immediately, merely allow me to keep our contract. Let me show you that I am good for you; let me continue to help you. Do not pretend as if you haven’t enjoyed having me to go to.” He squirmed and the way he sat there, my body caging his, his eyes held wide open and dark as midnight, made him seem strangely small. And then the fire was back, the Harry I knew, and he was a million feet tall again, he was the man with a force of nature clutched in his hand and tangling in his soul. He smirked.

                “You’re not very good at seduction, are you Johnny? I mean, this is just kind of weird. Get off of me, dumbass.” I did. He leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees, all odd angles and long lines and pretty shapes. He wasn’t traditional, I’d admit that, but it made him no less lovely. He licked his lips thoughtlessly.

                “I’m sorry,” I told him, and he laughed.

                “Don’t be. Feelings are weird, I know that. It’s not your fault. Still, though, yeah, I do like knowing that I have you to go to. I like knowing that you’ll let me be selfish if I need to be. It’s a nice thought. I don’t want to do that knowing that I don’t feel the way you do, though. It’ll just give you false hope and even if I don’t particularly like you that’d just be cruel.” I settled my fingertips on his wrist and he allowed it easily.

                “I’m quite sure that I could convince you if given enough time. I want you to keep this contract, Harry, and I don’t want you to act any differently around me. I want you, in every sense of the phrase,” I told him and I recognized the desperation in my own voice. I hadn’t sounded so… pathetic in years. It made my stomach churn but it seemed to affect Harry. He bit and gnawed at his lower lip, turned the pinkish flesh red and irritated. I tapped his wrist softly and he stopped.

                “John, are you sure about that?” I nodded. He sighed.

                “Alright. Just, if it ever gets hard for you, or if you want to cut it off, just tell me. I won’t mind.” I reached up and cupped his cheek and he leaned into the touch for a few seconds before he seemed to suddenly remember who we were, where we were, and pulled away.

                “I won’t. This won’t. Perhaps I need this in the same way that you do.” He flicked his eyes to the corner of the room and seemed to want his lip back between his teeth, but he visibly stopped himself. It must have been a bad habit he was trying to break. A light flush had made its way up his cheeks, common enough, but were I to guess I’d say he that he either didn’t know of its existence or didn’t care to acknowledge it.

                “Oh,” he said, and he twined his fingers around one another. My fingertips stayed firmly against his wrist. He sucked in a large breath. “Hell’s Bells, I’ve got a hard time believing that. Hendricks… Hendricks told me you’d scared a lot of people off for being… like you are.” I laughed bitterly because that was the truth, many people had become… unnerved, I suppose, with my way of revealing love, affection, care. I wasn’t good at loving. I knew that. I didn’t want to run Harry off. Perhaps that was why I held onto him so tightly.

                “That’s true enough. It seems that Nathan told you quite a lot. I need this too, though, Harry. When you open up yourself, your past to me in that way, it allows me to feel as if I’m helping you, keeping you safe, and I need that. I cannot love someone and feel as if I know nothing about them. I have to feel as if I am allowed to know.” He cocked his head.

                “I don’t have much of a right to call other people weird for doing things I do. I protect the people I love like that too. I can’t help it. You can’t either. You’re… you’re fucked up, yeah, but what the hell, I am too. Like I said, if you want to keep the contract, I’ll keep it, but I don’t love you, not like how you apparently love me. At the most, we’re friends.”

                “You kissed my cheek,” I told him, and the flush darkened a bit.

                “You should have a chat with Murphy; I can’t help that, sometimes. She’s gotten used to my random bouts of being overly affectionate. Michael doesn’t even yell at me for it anymore, and once I even accidentally kissed him on the mouth. It doesn’t happen often, but if someone makes me really happy, or if I’m really comfortable, I do stuff like that.” I laughed and my fingers crept farther, wrapped tightly around his wrist. He didn’t pull free. I took it as a small victory.

                “Alright. Friends. That’s alright, for now. I’m alright so long as I know you’ll come to me. Now, would you like to know what I’d like for my favor?” He rolled his eyes and gestured for me to go on. “I’d like you to charm my ring for me, something for a bit of defense.” I slipped it from my finger and handed it to him. He weighted it carefully, bounced it in his palm, and nodded.

                “I can do that now, if you want.” I nodded, and he placed the thing on his coffee table before he traipsed over to the corner of his room, kicked a large, thick rug out of the way, and climbed down a rickety set of old wooden stairs. He came back about five minutes later with a small handful of tiny bottles and a little red notebook. He flipped it to the middle and opened up a purple glass bottle that spat little motes of light when it was opened, and slowly he began to pour it over my ring. It glowed with incandescent light as he began a low, slow, droning chant and sat the purple bottle aside. It still appeared half full. The next one he opened was not quite so pretty, it being a discarded glass Coke bottle, and the stuff that came from it was thick and sludgy. It looked as if it would stain the gold, but if sunk into it like nothing as soon as it touched the metal. Harry’s words grew lilting and higher as he lifted the final bottle, this one plain, nondescript glass, and sprinkled a touch of equally nondescript white powder upon the jewelry. With one final, hissing word, the ring flashed brilliantly white for a moment and then faded back to normal. He closed his bottles and his notebook, then plucked up the ring and held it out to me.

                His magic had created a buzzing lightness in the air, and when I touched the ring it send a pleasant shock all through me. I slid it on my finger again and Harry smiled.

                “Thank you,” I told him, and he shrugged.

                “That’s nothing. It won’t stop a speeding train or anything, but punches and kicks and things should get blocked, or at least won’t cause you any damage, and it’d probably help you survive a nasty car accident or something. There’s stuff out there that works better but beyond shield bracelets that’s the strongest thing I know. Elaine can probably do something better; she always was better at the delicate stuff than me.” I flinched at the mention of her name.

                “You know you can’t trust her, Harry. She’s been lying to you.” Harry laughed and it seemed to hurt his face. I assumed he was doing it in disbelief, in a way to show how silly he thought I was being for distrusting her, but his next words were a solid punch to my stomach.

                “I know. Elaine is a snake, always has been, but I love her. She’s gotten tangled up with Aurora and the Summer Court, has to deal with the recent death of the Summer Knight and the theft of the Mantle, all that good stuff. Which, I do too, now, since I have recently been appointed the Winter Emissary, but hey. That’s probably why she showed up, to get me to protect her from Summer or something. No one’s going to look for the Summer Emissary in the home of someone with deep Winter ties, so that’s probably why she looked me up. I owe her, though, and she’s important to me, and I can’t say I would have acted any differently in her situation.” Harry knew. Harry knew that she’d lied. Harry knew and he still… he still showed her such trust, such hospitality. I gazed down at his hand again, thought of what he’d said, thought of it being a “workplace accident”. I touched it and he hissed with pain.

                “Workplace accident, hm?” He sighed.

                “Mab made me stab myself with a letter opener because I didn’t want to do this particular favor. I don’t like getting tangled up in fairy politics because they’re so dangerous, but I currently owe her three favors because my godmother sold my debt. I’m lucky she didn’t do worse to me. Mab is no joke.”

                “You’re involved, then? In whatever Elaine is doing?” He nodded.

                “Better or worse.”

                “If you need me or my people, please do not hesitate to call me. I will come whenever you need me.” He snuffled and bumped into me hard with a bony shoulder.

                “As if. This is my debt to repay. It’s dangerous, especially for a mortal. I don’t want to tie you up in this. You are just vanilla whether or not you want to admit it. Things like Mab and Aurora would chew you up and spit you out again.”

                “I can handle it,” I told him, and I sounded, admittedly, quite a lot like a petulant toddler insisting that yes, he was big enough to ride that ride by himself, it didn’t matter that the sign said he was a foot too short. Harry raised his eyebrows.

                “I don’t want you dead.” I coughed and he smiled.

                “I still think that you are foolish for trusting her as you so obviously do,” I told him, and he tilted his head back to gaze at his ceiling. He looked adult, then, portrayed the wisdom his title of Wizard suggested of him. I forgot, sometimes, that in truth he was little more than a child in his world, that he had hundreds of years left to live. It was hard to think of him in those terms, though, he burned bright like the element he favored, bright and swift and hard to stare right at. He turned his eyes, old eyes now, to my face.

                “That’s funny. I think it’s pretty dumb of me too. I also think it’s pretty dumb that I trusted you, of all people, with so many of my secrets and with my life and with my friendship. Looks like my trust is almost as much of an idiot as me, huh?” My head fell into my hands and I had to laugh. Harry Dresden, if he did nothing else, made my life interesting. He made my monochrome world light up in Technicolor. Perhaps that was truly why I loved him, but I don’t really think so. I think I love him because he is Harry, because he is soft with hard edges, because his tongue is acid and knives that speak sweetly and smartly when they choose, because he is made of limbs and angles that move with wobbling grace, because he is a contradiction with fire and a handsome face. Yes, I think I love him because he is Harry. Perhaps eventually he will love me because I am John. I reach out and clutch his hand once, and he lets me, before I leave. He waves goodbye and smiles crookedly and I think I’ll very much enjoy having his friendship. I wondered if his friends even knew how lucky they were. I hoped they did.

* * *

 

Harry’s POV

                I think my week just got weirder. Marcone loves me, and I know I’m the one that called him on it, but like I’d told him, I was just trying to get a reaction. I’d have never guessed it was true. I should’ve cut the contract, but that look in his eyes had been so… human, so real, that I’d been unable to. I’d offered him my friendship and he’d latched on like a limpet, seemed determined that he’d make me feel for him as he did me. I didn’t know if that would happen. I hardly even liked the man for all I did trust him, I thought he was immoral and I thought he was the opposite of nearly everything I stood for, necessary though he probably was. Stones, though, I did trust him. I did like him a little, and periodically I grew to like him more despite myself. He was funny, when he wasn’t all business, and he was smart. We had more in common than we (more me, I guess) would ever admit. I don’t love him, though, I can’t.

                It had been nice, though, him sharing something with me, something that he felt necessary, one of his unchangeable little personality quirks, like I had been doing with him. It was nice to add another scrap of humanity to the caricature, the cut out, of a human I’d built him up as in my head. Everything was getting out of hand too quickly, though, what with Elaine and John and the White Council’s War and the impending battle between Summer and Winter that’d catch all of humanity right in the middle of it. I’d be its sole defender, too, except for Elaine, and I knew that helping her get free, helping her help me, would be enough of a challenge in and of itself. An impossible wall of impossible yet necessary feats had surrounded me again. I didn’t know if I could deal with it, handle it, keep it all under control like I always did. Marcone, John, confused me. Admittedly, though, a year had passed so all of this was probably right on schedule. Maybe I should start keeping a calendar with possible apocalypse days marked, just so I can know to keep those weeks free.

                …I might have been doing this for too long. The crazy is starting to make a discomforting amount of sense. I need a vacation.     


	7. Chapter 7

                The next morning I was the one who had to leave rather than Elaine. She watched me with her quick, light eyes and I smiled and told her I’d be back before the day’s end. I’d needed to get to work on Mab’s case, really, because the quicker I got it over with the quicker I could cut down my debt, and that was the most important thing just then. My first step, my first idea, was to put in a call to Lea; she’d know more about what was really going on than me, and I could at least be partially sure that I could trust her, which was better than what I normally got.

                I drove north, to the lake, and stepped out onto the dock. The wind whipped at me and my coat sounded almost like a whip when it blew. I took in a deep breath and with it I felt the power from the bitter weather around me filling me up, twitching at my fingertips. Brief thoughts of the damage I could inflict like this, drawing power from winter and Winter, flitted through my mind, but I dismissed them quickly. Cold magic wasn’t my style. Still, it’d be good for what I needed to do now. I slipped my chalk from one deep pocket and drew a wide circle around me on the wood. With a single touch it had been infused with my will. I stood up straight and as tall as I could, attempting to appear stalwart against the wind and determined to fulfill what I sought to accomplish. Lea usually appreciated that.

                “Leansidhe, Leansidhe, Leansidhe. Thou godson wishes for congress with thee,” I yelled, before I broke my circle with my foot and sent the call spiraling away. Very little time passed before Lea appeared in front of me, over the water. Her hair, red and wild as flame, was preternaturally still around her face despite the wind. Her dress, though, shifted just slightly around her feet. She smiled at me calmly, distantly, and her eyes held the apathetic, disinterested look of most of the Sidhe. It wasn’t like her, not really, and she seemed a bit paler than normal as well. It was almost as if the life was being sucked from her.

                “Mine godson,” she said, and she held her arms out wide as if she expected me to leap into the water simply so that I could wrap her in a hug. I raised my eyebrows and she laughed, her arms falling back to her sides. “Might I ask what thou wish for?”

                “Information on the recent murder of the Summer Knight.” She cocked her head.

                “What a shame that mine queen has already gotten to thee. I apologize for the gift I made of your debt, by the way, but it was necessary. All else I had to offer was our lives, and I was quite unwilling to part with those.” I blinked.

                “It’s… well, it’s not alright, but I’m not upset. I just need to know about what happened to the Summer Knight.” Her smile was teasing.

                “Oh, la. How unimportant that is. What thou should truly seek, my child, are the children the Summer Knight helped, the little changelings, four of them. Three now, I suppose, since one has gone missing. She is the important piece you do not know of, now.”

                “I don’t understand.”

                “Thou wouldn’t. Tis simply a thought for thee to consider. There is little more I can tell thee, but there is a bit that I might show thee if thou wish to see.” I nodded and she reached out to touch me. We were suddenly not standing on the dock, but rather on some clouds high above it. A stone table stood before me engraved in runes that never seemed to still, runes from countless cultures.

                “What is this?” I asked Lea, and she led me closer. I could feel the power buzzing around me, concentrated at the table.

                “Use thou Wizard’s Eye,” she told me, and I don’t know why I listened to her, but I did. I opened up my Sight and what I saw nearly had me falling to the earth. There was a battle between colors, warm and cold. Cold was currently winning, and yes, there it was, the imbalance, I could see it. Summer held the table currently, but Winter was creeping ever closer. Chicago was still oddly cold for this time of year. The world around me looked like a chess board. The power was immense and intense and like nothing I’d ever felt before. I had to close my Sight. Lea touched me with gentle hands to calm me.

                “Where is this, Lea?” She gazed around listlessly, her feet still scarcely touching the ground. Er, clouds. Whatever.

                “The Stone Table, the nexus of the balance between Summer and Winter. Blood spilled here, on this table, will transfer great power to the Court who currently holds it. Wizard blood, I’ve heard, is especially potent,” she said, and her finger stroked teasingly across my cheek. She’d seen and used my blood; she knew well enough what it could do. I flinched away from her touch. “This table may change the balance of power between the Courts. This place, this Chicago-over-Chicago, is quite dangerous, you understand.” Yeah. Yeah, I could see how that could be so. That had to have been what Aurora was planning, making a sacrifice to fix the damage done by the loss of the Summer Knight’s Mantle. Lea had actually been helpful, for once; I could hardly believe it.

                “Thank you, Lea.” She returned us to the dock.

                “Do not yet thank me. I can offer no more help, beyond suggesting that perhaps it would be wise for thou to attend Reuel’s funeral. I believe it is taking place now, at the church your Knight friend frequents, St. Mary of the Angels.” I nodded and smiled even though the travel to that Chicago-over-Chicago had made me relatively tired. Travelling into the Nevernever so suddenly, with no fanfare, tended to do that to you, no idea why. Or was that even the Nevernever? I honestly had no idea; it wasn’t like I had a map to the place or something because even I’m not brave/stupid enough to try to make one. I hadn’t even been to a quarter of places within the Nevernever, honestly, so I really had no idea. Lea touched my cheek again, that teasing little smile still present on her face, and then disappeared. It was at that point that I drove to the funeral of a man I’d never met before in my life because I’m super respectful like that.

* * *

 

                I didn’t notice anything particularly interesting until I was walking out, at which point I was attacked by three teenagers, or at least they looked like teenagers to me, but I’ve never been all that adept at judging ages. Comes from the majority of the forty year olds you meet secretly being about a hundred and fifty years old, I guess. One of them was a girl, her short hair a dark, muddy shade of green and her body strong and thick. The boys beside her were very small, comparatively, and one of them, a thin, tan boy with a shock of sun bleached blonde hair, would be small compared to most people, but the other, but the other, the oldest looking of the group with curly dark hair and a goatee, was actually pretty average sized. I could tell just by looking at them, the strange, unnatural draw I felt towards them, that they were changelings. I stepped closer to them and they caught sight of me too. I smiled to calm them, but the smaller boy just got twitchier, his eyes wide and his fingers twining so tightly that I almost thought he’d break them. The girl stepped protectively in front of both boys, her chin lifted defiantly despite the sharp burst of fright in her eyes.

                “Hey, look, I’m not going to hurt you. I hardly even know who you are; all I know is that you were close to Reuel. I just want to know what you know, so I can find out who killed him.” I heard the smallest whispering Winter, heard the other whispering Wizard, and bit my lip. The girl grabbed me suddenly by the throat and held me up against the wall, high enough that my feet couldn’t touch the ground. I grabbed her hand but it held fast even as I scratched it, and I gasped and choked for air.

                “I won’t let you hurt them. I won’t let anyone from Winter hurt us again.” What? I dropped my grip on her hand and started gesturing wildly. She lowered me and loosened her grip enough that I could breath and speak, but her hand stayed settled there and I knew she could do the same again. Her eyes were dark where they stared at me. I took in breath with a few quick gasps, and then spoke.

                “I’m Winter’s Emissary because I owe Mab a debt, not out of any sense of loyalty. I don’t like it, okay, and I’m sure as hell not going to hurt a group of kids for them. You’re changelings, I know that, and I know the Courts probably want you to Choose, but I couldn’t care less either way. I just want to know what you knew about Reuel.” She looked vaguely relieved, and then I saw the gun pointed at me. “Shit!” I yelled, and the older boy fired. I twisted around to stand in front of the girl, my coat protecting us both, and felt it when the bullet hit me and bounced off the enchanted leather harmlessly.

                “Stop!” the girl bellowed, and the gun was lowered. “He can help us find her. He’s not like Slate.” Slate again? Jesus, I’d been hearing about that guy a lot, and it didn’t seem like too many people liked him. I wondered if the one they were talking about finding was the other changeling; the one Lea said was missing.

                “How can you tell?” the older boy yelled, waving the gun, and the girl clenched her teeth.

                “He isn’t lying. I believe what he’s saying, okay?”

                “I trust you, Meryl,” the younger boy said, and the elder took a deep breath and holstered the weapon. I sighed in relief.

                “Thank you. Now, look, who is it you want me to find?”

                “Our friend, Lily. She went missing almost immediately after Reuel was killed. We think Slate did that, but we can’t know for sure. He is the Winter Knight, though. There aren’t many other people who could’ve done it. We just want to find her, though. Slate was… he hurt her, a lot.” I flinched. I could understand that. These kids were faced with more pressure than the average adult, and they faced it from things that were a hell of a lot scarier. All they had was each other, and now one of them was missing, gone, lost in the rough and tumble supernatural wasteland. “We can pay. I’ve heard about you, you’re for hire.” I shook my head and felt my pockets screaming at me for what I was about to say.

                “No charge, I’ll look for her for free.” Meryl, the girl, looked painfully happy. She pulled a picture from her pocket of an abnormally pretty girl with hair the color of summer grass. I recognized her face, I did, but I couldn’t place from where. I’d seen if before, though, I knew that. Somewhere. I’d figure it out.

                “That’s… thank you,” said the younger, and he stepped forward. The older boy looked sour. I shrugged.

                “No problem, really. Can I maybe have you guys’ names?”

                “Fix,” said the smaller boy.

                “Ace,” said the other.

                “I’m Meryl,” the girl said last. I nodded and cracked my neck.

                “Quite a grip there, Meryl.” She smirked.

                “I was going to throw you in the dumpster, but I thought better of it.” Well, that would’ve brought back some interesting memories of middle school.

                “Yeah, yeah, like you could’ve,” I grumbled, “Anyway, can you guys tell me anything else? Like, anything at all that might be useful to me? I’m a little lost, honestly.” They looked at each other, quick conversation flashing between them and verifying the time they’d spent together and the trust they held. Kids without a family that had made their own. My heart ached for them, a little, and I swore I’d get the fourth member of their family back for them. I wouldn’t let them get torn apart, I couldn’t.

                “We’ve heard a lot of rumors,” said Fix. “I don’t know how accurate they are, though. Still, it’s better than nothing, right?” he questioned with a crooked smile that added an odd luster to his pointed, angular, unique face. He wasn’t traditionally handsome, that was for sure, but the uniqueness of him made him nice to look at. I nodded.

                “Hell, kid, I’m grasping at straws as it is. I’ll take what I can get.”

                “You should try to get audience with the Mothers, then. People say they know everything that happens. They’ll know who killed Reuel, and probably why, too. And maybe they’ll know where Lily is.” Oh, Hell’s Bells. The Mothers of Summer and Winter. Visiting them wasn’t just dangerous; it was fucking suicidally, Darwin award level stupid. Also, the simple fact that I, of all people, am admitting that should tell you how true that is. That, however, did not mean that I wasn’t planning on doing it. What? It was stupid, but stupid worked for me, and I didn’t have any other options anyway. I nodded and bowed extravagantly at the waist to make them laugh. It worked on two thirds of them, but apparently Ace was going for that hardass look.

                “Thanks, I’ll give it a go. It might be interesting to find out just how dead I can get myself; I’ve been trying to figure it out for years, but the closet I’ve gotten is getting a tombstone.” None of them seemed to know whether to laugh at or be confused by that, and I was turned around and waving at them before they could figure it out.

* * *

 

                I went back home after that, because honestly what else could I do? Elaine seemed like my best current option for figuring out a way to get in to see the Mothers, so I’d try asking her. I knew she couldn’t give me much, case wise, since she’d been roped into being Summer’s Emissary, but maybe she could figure out a way to help me with this. We’d always managed to help each other before, honestly, so I didn’t see why this would be all that different. She greeted me with a smile when I entered, but there was something off about her. She couldn’t look me in the eyes. I furrowed my eyebrows at her but she didn’t respond. I assumed, though, that she’d tell me if she wanted me to know, so I didn’t pester her.

                “Hey, Elaine,” I told her, and she snorted.

                “We’re living together and that’s the best you can do?”

                “You want me to get on one knee and propose or something?” She leaned back and crossed her legs at the knee.

                “Might be a nice start.” I huffed.

                “Hell’s Bells. Elaine, I really can’t do this right now; I promise I’ll bicker with you all you want as soon as this is all over.” She cocked her head and the playfulness fled. The sadness came back and she stopped looking at me again.

                “Who says there will be a, ‘when this is all over’?” I rolled my eyes.

                “Me, especially if you can swing something for me.” She blinked her wide eyes.

                “What?”

                “I need a meeting with the Mothers.” Everything went quiet. Even Mouse and Mister were giving me these looks like I’d just said I had a gerbil in my pants and my coat was made of ferrets, and all of this was true because these things were way more effective than tin foil helmets at stopping the aliens from reading my thoughts.

                “Harry, that’s stupid, and it could get both of us killed.” I shrugged.

                “I’ve risked more for less. Look, Elaine, they could tell me a lot, like who killed Reuel, where I can find this changeling girl I’m looking for, how to free you, hell, maybe… they might even know how I can help Susan.” My voice went soft at the end without my consent, but I couldn’t help it, not really. She clenched her teeth and her legs started bouncing. We still had the same nervous twitches too, apparently. She finally looked me in the eye again.

                “Okay, Harry,” she told me. “Okay. I’ll make some calls, just… look, please be careful with them, with this.” I came over and hugged her and she hugged me back and god, I wished sometimes that nothing had ever changed. I wished that I could love her like I had before because then things would be so much easier. A flash of money eyes flitted across my vision suddenly, but it was gone quickly enough and I stood up straight again.

                “Thank you, Elaine,” I said, “But for the moment I need a quick nap. Wake me when you’ve got it arranged, will you?” She nodded, her eyes disconcertingly blank.

                “Yeah,” she told me, and I heard her mumble something as I walked away, but I couldn’t make out the exact words. I dropped down onto my bed and fell asleep quickly. I’ve always thought it was funny how getting transported to and from a mysterious stone table, going to a funeral, and getting nearly choked to death and shot at could make a guy so tired. Actually, wait, no, before today I’d never found that funny at all.

* * *

 

Elaine’s POV

                “I wish you didn’t have to die.” The words slipped gently from my lips before I could stop them, but I knew he hadn’t heard. I sat on his couch coldly and recognized the words for truth. He didn’t deserve to die. He didn’t deserve to have Winter and Summer on his ass. He didn’t deserve a lot of things. It had never mattered, though, whether he deserved something or not because fate had dealt him a shitty hand every round of his life. It was only fitting that he get a shitty end like this, but I could still barely stand the thought. Aurora had gone from an assurance to me that he’d come out of this unscathed to a near promise that he’d end up dead by the end of all this. It felt a lot like she’d lied to me, but I must have been missing something; she was a fairy, lying was the one thing she was incapable of. Maybe, though, the Mothers would kill him before Aurora got the chance. I made the calls I’d promised Harry thoughtlessly and got the meeting arranged with only minor threats to my own life, but I didn’t wake him right away. It was sort of funny, how I wanted him to be well rested before he marched headlong into his death, but I did. I guessed I still had some residual mothering in me from when we were kids.

                I finally went and woke him twenty minutes after it was finalized, and he just looked so glad to have me around. I played along with his smiles and his carefree, happy go lucky looks and smiles and words, but I knew he was faking his the same as I was mine. He was scared and I was guilty, he was lonely and I was selfish. Everything was different just as it was exactly the same. I didn’t offer to go to the meeting with him. He didn’t ask me to. He left without me after I gave him the directions on how to reach their domain and he left me only a grin and an assurance that he’d be back by dinner. I didn’t bother telling him that he left at dinner time. I pillaged his cabinets and found a box of cookies, which I ate. The thick, too sugary taste of them made me feel more human.

* * *

     

Powers’ POV

                The man in front of me was a pathetic sight; half of his face was marked with dark burns and his arms bore years of needle tracks. A brand in the shape of a snowflake stood out in sharp contrast on his neck, and I’d never asked nor cared where he’d gotten it; he was something of a mercenary, a man who would do anything for money, drugs, or both. This wasn’t the first time I’d called on the man, whose name was, I believed, Lloyd Slate. As if that mattered, really; he could have had no name and no face for all I cared for him. I found him abhorrent, honestly, disgusting and weak, but he did what I asked of him with few questions and so I felt him to be an asset. His eyes flashed around my apartment like those of a weary predator. He’d obviously been hitting something harder than his usual; he seemed paranoid, and that simply wasn’t like him.

                “Hello, Mr. Slate,” I said, and he bounced once on his heels before he turned his flashing eyes to me. The burn on his face was quite unnerving, as the side of his face affected by it could hardly move.

                “I told you, Powers, I have a new gig. I don’t need your work anymore.” I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms; I wasn’t used to being told no, and here it had happened twice now in as many days. I’d sweeten the deal if that’s what he was after, but I wouldn’t let him simply leave. I needed this done and he was the man for the job. I was about to say as much when he spoke again, though. “I think our needs are overlapping, though. Our usual price and I’ll get him for you. I’ll need him kept out of the way until Midsummer, at least.” That made me smile.

                “That should be simple enough. I’ll give you what you want upon receiving him.” Slate nodded.

                “You got some way to keep him contained?” I pursed my lips and shook my head slowly. I hadn’t thought containing him would be much more difficult than containing anyone else. He had that magic of his, yes, I’d seen traces of it, but he didn’t seem willing to display much, and had certainly been unwilling to cause me injury with it.

                “He’s a Wizard, man, and he ain’t a joke. This won’t work if I bring him to you and you let him go.”

                “I’ve had him here before and he seemed unwilling to hurt me.” Slate smirked.

                “My new boss has had me watch him before; she’s interested, wants to fuck him or kill him or keep him or all three, I don’t know. All I know is he won’t stay unwilling for long. He’s toasted shit a hell of a lot more threatening than you. Can’t even do your own dirty work and kidnap him yourself. Hell, I wouldn’t be fucking stupid enough to do this if I didn’t have to anyway,” he hissed, and I wondered when he’d grown a backbone.

                “If your new boss is interested then why not just take him for her?” He bared his teeth.

                “She’s not the one who wants him out of the way right now. I’ve always _loved_ deals on the side, remember?” I realized that the baring of teeth he’d displayed was meant to be a laugh, and so I gave him one of my own.

                “Yes, yes. Well, what would you suggest?”

                “Thorn manacles or containment wards. Manacles would be better, but you wouldn’t get as much… maneuverability out of him that way. If you use wards you’d better hope they’re damn good ones, or he’ll break out of them. The manacles, though, those will hold him for sure. There ain’t a Wizard in the world tough enough to cast through those.” I took in a deep, frustrated sigh.

                “How might I go about obtaining these Manacles?” His eyes went lidded and he licked his lips.

                “I don’t know, man. I just know how to use them. I got a contact I can check with, might be able to deliver him packaged up pretty for you. You don’t know magic, though, and you sure as hell don’t know him. What, did you just see a pretty face or something? Trust me; it ain’t worth the hassle getting a Wizard into bed.” I smiled.

                “I wouldn’t think you’d find it prudent to attempt to convince me against getting what I want.” It made little sense, especially if he felt he’d have to do it anyway.

                “I guess it probably isn’t. Still, Wizards are good; I’ll admit that, I’ve had a few through my new job. Totally great fucks, yeah, but tough to deal with afterwards. Wizards don’t take fucking lightly, some shit about energy and auras, I don’t know. Wasn’t my business to ask them while we were screwing and they were gone by morning. The one you’re after has been totally celibate since his girlfriend left him. You break that you’re going to have more than one issue with him. We ain’t ever been friends, Powers, but you’re a good place to get work if I need it and your money is always good. I don’t want to see you charred up yet.” I clasped my hands in my lap and offered another smile. Slate could say whatever he would, but I didn’t particularly care, really. I wanted Dresden, badly, and I knew that with Johnny around and interested too, with Johnny always aware of where he was, I’d have little chance of getting him. This was the only method available to me, really, at least currently. Besides, what better revenge could I have than stealing his precious Harry from right under his nose? He needed to be brought down a few pegs, reminded that pissing me off, embarrassing me in such away, would not simply be taken lying down because he owned Chicago. Really there were quite a lot of birds I could kill with this single stone.

                “It matters little to me. Bring him to me incapacitated with those manacles you spoke of and I’ll give you your payment, with a little extra for procuring the manacles for me.” He inclined his head and his body bent into a low bow almost subconsciously. His new employer was apparently quite… demanding of him, and obviously related somehow to magic. I’d have never guessed that Slate, realistic junkie Slate, would tie himself up in business like magic, business I’d only discovered a few days prior, but I supposed that I ought not question it, not truly, as it would only be another stepping stone for me to use, another asset for me to milk. Slate left and I reclined upon my couch lazily, simply waiting. I’d have what I desired quickly enough, now.      

* * *

 

Marcone’s POV

                Something was happening; the air had that electric buzz that warned of magic and thunderstorms, and the chill of winter air that hadn’t ever quite left despite the current season was becoming bitter and biting. Something large, something integral, something basic, was moving. My people all seemed to be getting restless at the feeling and I could understand as much, although my restlessness stemmed from a different source.

                I knew that Harry had to be involved in this movement, this shifting of the very earth and sea and sky, I knew that he’d become the Winter Emissary and was attempting to solve a murder and help Elaine, but I didn’t know how all this fit together. I didn’t have all the pieces. The answers were there, I could feel them, but I could not see them. I couldn’t drag them out into the light and examine them or tear them apart and look at what they meant. I was lost. Hendricks walked into my office with an almost nervous look on his face and I knew immediately that he hadn’t been able to find her. I haven’t got any idea why I expected anything else, really; if she could hide her past as well it appeared she could, of course she could avoid being detected in a city of Chicago’s size.

                “Sorry, Boss,” he said, far more quietly than most would think him capable of, but I waved him off and shook my head. The woman obviously lived to be a frustration to me, and I wouldn’t fault Hendricks for that.

                “It’s alright. I didn’t truly expect you to find her anyway, but I’d have felt lazy if I didn’t at least have you make the attempt.” He looked confused. That couldn’t possibly be a good sign.

                “I did find her, Boss. I was apologizing because I couldn’t catch her. We were going in the general direction of Dresden’s apartment but I don’t know for sure that that’s where she went after I lost her.” I squeezed the bridge of my nose softly to mitigate the headache that was well on its way to blossoming in my skull.

                “Where was she when you found her, Mr. Hendricks?”

                “Just on the street. She was just wandering around, and when I tried to flag her down she ran off. I got close to her a couple times but she did something and blinded me. I lost her the second time she pulled that trick. She left me this, though,” he said, and slid a note on crumpled white notebook paper from his pocket to give to me. I flattened it out as best I could on my desk and noted that the handwriting was small and rather neat.

                _‘Harry is in danger; visiting the Mothers. I can’t convince him not to go. He just left. Probably at lake by now, go help him.’_ The words surprised me, certainly. She _wanted_ me to go fetch him; she wanted me to save him. That was a direct contrast to everything else she’d shown me. Honestly I didn’t believe her. I thought she was setting up a trap. I also thought that if there was any chance of Harry being in danger, I had no choice but to go attempt to help him. I was on my feet almost as soon as I finished reading the note, but Hendricks stood in front of me to block my way.

                “What?” I growled, almost unable to believe that he’d try to stop me now. He put his palm on the center of my chest and pushed hard to send me stumbling back towards my desk. He didn’t come near me after that, however; he knew me well enough not to.

                “This is stupid and you know it. You said yourself that she was a liar and that she was using him, why would you trust her about this? She might just be trying to get you out of the way.” I clenched my teeth because Hendricks was far too fond of attempting to make me see reason about things I simply was not reasonable about.

                “Whether she’s lying or not there’s a chance she’s speaking the truth. I won’t risk Harry on a hunch of her being dishonest.”

                “It’s closer to a certainty than a hunch, Boss. Besides, who the hell are the Mothers anyway? Why would Dresden visit them if he didn’t think he could handle it?”

                “Harry knows that she has been lying, he told me as much when I visited him. He still trusts her. In this instance, I will do the same. Come on.” And he did. Hendricks is loyal to a fault, always has been. I’ve always known that there was little that I wouldn’t turn to him for, trust him with. He’s a good man. I was pleased to have him beside me as we rushed off into a possible, probable, trap. Still, it was for Harry. I never wanted to consider just how many traps I’d be willing to trigger for him, to help him, to keep him safe and happy. Too many, I knew that. It made me laugh as Hendricks revved up the car and sent us rocketing off to the lake. We were, however, seconds too late. Harry was stepping through a portal the moment we arrived. I yelled for him but he didn’t hear me. The portal zipped closed behind him. I’d told Harry that I knew how it felt to simply not be fast enough. I hadn’t been hoping to be reminded of it.

* * *

 

Harry’s POV

                The temperature was mild through the Way to the Nevernever, which was the true shocker. I’d never gone into a territory there and found it to be anything other than bone chillingly cold or skin meltingly hot. Maybe the Mothers were less… volatile than their daughters and granddaughters. The environment around me consisted of low, rolling hills and a quaint cottage was nestled against one of them. I went towards it, halfway expecting the ground to crumble away from my feet. It didn’t, though. I reached the door with no challenges to my person. I touched it and wasn’t blown straight back into the mortal world. I opened it and wasn’t attacked by a rabid Cerberus. Really it was probably the most mundane thing I’d done since this whole mess got started. Is that sad? I think it is. I stepped inside and saw the Mothers quickly, and though they stood side by side it was easy to tell which was with.

                The Summer Mother looked like a mother. She was a little plump, her face round and kind, and she wore an apron, of all things. She looked like a fairytale mother, so much so that I almost expected her to offer me a cookie. The Winter Mother, on the other hand, was grizzled, and she could’ve been in a Fairytale too, but she’d have been the villain, the witch, the wicked stepmother. A shawl hung, dark and heavy, over her iron gray hair. She looked tired, too, but she was knitting from her chair. I waved at them and felt really stupid for it. Mother Summer laughed and gestured for me to come in. I wiped my feet almost subconsciously and closed the door behind me before I offered a low, respectful bow. She looked pleasantly surprised but Mother Winter still looked tired and apathetic. I wondered what was wrong with her.

                “Summer is her time to rest, child,” she told me, and I could understand that. “She awoke especially for your visit.” Mother Winter scoffed.

                “Do not say such things; he will gain an inflated sense of his own worth.” Yeah, like that was possible. I was just an idiot, nothing more, nothing less. Hell, though, at least I admitted it. Mother Summer sighed and looked incredibly put-upon. I guessed she dealt with this a lot.

                “You are here to learn that which you already know, child; the identity of the Summer Knight’s killer and that of the one who stole the Mantle. The pieces are all already before you, if only you think.” Why couldn’t someone just give me the answers for once? I was getting tired of thinking; it gave me a headache.

                “He’s a fool, Mother Summer, why do you think he has seen?” Well, that was offensive. And I was on Winter’s team, right now. I wondered what kind of welcome she’d give Summer.

                “The Winter Knight killed the Summer Knight, right? That’s the only thing that makes sense there. He’s the only one with the motive and the only one that could’ve done it. As for who took the Mantle… it couldn’t have been Mab. She was the one who put me on this case and she wouldn’t have done all this just to make me catch her. The Winter Lady is too… uncontrolled, and even though the Winter Knight was her choice I don’t think she ordered the death. This is too well planned; whoever did this has a long term goal in mind. She’s too impulsive to manage it, I know that.” Mother Summer smirked at her antithesis and Mother Winter looked more bothered. “You two are out for obvious reasons. That leaves the Summer Queen and the Summer Lady.” Mother Summer nodded.

                “Good boy, good boy. It was one of mine who has perpetrated this. Now which one was it? Which had the reason, child?” I didn’t know. I didn’t see how either of them could, not when they were both Summer. Why would either of them take their own Mantle? Why would either of them want to risk all-out war with Winter? I could think of no reason for it. “Someone who ought not to have been capable of a lie has lied to you, boy,” Mother Summer continued. No. She couldn’t mean what I thought she did. She couldn’t have. It was impossible. I gaped and heard Mother Winter take in a quick, sharp breath.

                “You’ve given it away, sister,” she growled, and she knew that I knew. The cloth she was knitting in gray wool was beginning to take the shape of a neat, perfect square. I could feel power rolling off of it but I couldn’t imagine what it was. Everything around me felt suddenly oppressive.

                “Aurora?” I asked, and Mother Summer nodded.

                “Against all wishes she has done this. Her corruption is deep and her self polluted, thus her untruths and her madness.” Madness. All of this was madness.

                “Why?” I asked. There was no reason, none at all. And… oh, Hell’s Bells. “Doesn’t this mean that the Winter Knight is working for Summer?” Mother Summer nodded.

                “Yes, boy. Have you seen something else?” Elaine. This meant that Elaine had been lying about more than I’d thought. The Winter Knight wouldn’t have hurt the Emissary of the one he was following, most certainly not as severely as I’d seen. Elaine had been faking and I’d been too stupid and too worried to see it. Maybe she’d been forced, though. I held onto that as my hope. If she’d been forced then all I had to do was free her and we’d be as we were once again, we’d care for each other as we always had for as long as we could.

                “No,” I said, and both of the Mothers obviously knew I was lying.

                “Give him this,” Mother Winter said suddenly, and snipped the wool from the corner of the little square. Mother Summer took it and handed it to me. The power on it was so strong that it nearly forced me back, down, away. I stared at it in shock.

                “An Unraveling,” Mother Summer said, “Capable of reversing any enchantment. It will do you good on your mission. Perhaps on more than one.” Susan. The thought came to me suddenly. I could use this to fix Susan. I could save her. I could undo Elaine’s ties to Summer. I could undo my own to Winter. I could… I could fix my life with this. I also couldn’t. They wouldn’t have given me this if there wasn’t something relating to this case, to Aurora, that I had to do with it. They’d have seen it as wasteful and dangerous, me being a mortal wizard and that being an insanely powerful weapon.  It ached where I held it, the knowledge that I could do so much yet so little nagging at me. The world was more important, though, I knew that. It was more important that Summer and Winter not got to war. I’d use it for what it was intended to be used for, whatever that happened to be. I guessed I’d figure it out when I got to it.

                “Thank you,” I said, and I meant it with all of myself. Mother Summer nodded and smiled, and I could tell that she’d been beautiful, once. I could see the same dredges in Mother Winter’s face, too, and still they both had lovely eyes, eyes as clear as glass and sparking with power. Mother Summer nodded and I could see Mother Winter listing into a deep sleep. Suddenly, the cottage melted from around me and I stood at the lakeshore again. My skin tingled. Jesus. Could I go through one meeting without someone flaunting their vast and mighty strength at me? It was getting sort of annoying. I realized quickly, however, that I had way more important stuff to worry about. Stuff like the Way lying open on the earth in front of me that I just stepped directly in and fell through. It sort of sucked. I heard some yelling as I fell, though, and it sounded like Marcone. I don’t know why that made me happy.

* * *

 

                I saw the Winter Knight for the first time when I opened my eyes after that fall. He had dark, close shaved hair and light skin. I saw needle tracks in the bend of his arms. One side of his face was burned badly, and the whole thing was covered in relatively minor, if likely painful, cuts and scrapes. His eyes were wild and his body unnaturally strong when he hauled me up to my feet and I felt manacles, Thorn Manacles, around my wrists. Fuck.

A snowflake brand was the focal point of his neck, and I knew why. He was probably little more than cattle to the Queens, any of them. He was just human flesh, human muscle, that they could use to fulfill their dirty work. He was a victim, originally, but I could see in his wan, hungry face that he’d become a victimizer as well. He didn’t give a damn about who he hurt, maybe he never had, but I knew that his power had corrupted him. He unsheathed a sword and prodded at my back.

                “Walk,” he said, and I raised my eyebrows and grinned. It probably looked almost as weird as it felt.

                “I’d really rather not. Think you can tell me where I’m being whisked away?”

                “Thirty feet that way,” he said, prodded at me again, and I guessed we weren’t going far. Or maybe we were. Distance is weird in the Nevernever. It was always possible to go thirty feet there and 30 million in the mortal world. I didn’t know how it worked in this particular area. I almost wished I’d been enough of a brave idiot to map the place, now. Maybe I’d try it if I got through this. His sword pressed harder and I could feel that my coat, enchanted though it was, wouldn’t hold up against good solid strike from that blade. I walked the thirty feet and he tore open another Way, this one at least oriented in the proper direction. He pushed me through it and I tumbled out into a living room. I knew that because I’d been in that living room before. Powers had brought me there just the day before. I was suddenly even more confused. I saw Slate’s feet beside my face, which was still lying on the carpet.

                “Here he is, Powers. Where’s my pay?” I heard Powers laugh, warm as ever, and then I saw his feet by my face too. I wanted to see, suddenly, if I could bite through leather. I’d given him the benefit of the doubt and he’d done this, had me kidnapped, trussed up, and brought to him like an animal. I’d teach him better, I would. I didn’t quite know how, but I would. I glared at the floor.

                “How impatient!” he said, and his hand closed around the back of my shirt. “Let me make certain he’s in good condition first.”

                “Powers,” I snarled, and his fingers went close to my mouth. I snapped at them and he smirked.

                “Ah, good, he seems perfectly alright. Come, you payment is here,” he said, and I watched him hand Slate a tightly wrapped bundle that made him shake.

                “Good. Keep him busy until tomorrow, at least. If he comes and fucks this up I’ll end up dead.” It was at that moment that I realized what day it was. Midsummer. Today was Midsummer. Today was the day Aurora, Aurora who took her own Knight’s Mantle, would attack, and I didn’t know her plan. I really was in over my head this time and I wasn’t so sure I could swim my way back to the surface. Powers cupped my cheek, pressed close to me, and smiled. 


	8. Chapter 8

Marcone's POV               

                I had no idea what to do. Harry had returned only to fall into nothingness, empty space. I’d yelled for him, yes, but there’d been nothing I could do, not even when I attempted to chase the burned man who’d followed him down. The helplessness nagged at me, chewed at my heart and my mind, and I could hardly think for it. I was lucky that I had Hendricks, truly lucky.

                “I recognize that guy,” he said, and I almost couldn’t believe it.

                “From where?” I questioned, too quick.

                “He’s a junkie gun for hire. He’s dropped off the radar recently, but he used to do a lot of work for Powers. Looks like he’s still a contact, but he’s obviously got some magical connections now too. Must’ve been what he was doing while he was off the map.” My thoughts started going a mile a minute. A man who obviously had magical connections or a skill at magic had taken Harry into the Nevernever, a place he’d often mentioned as exceedingly dangerous for those who did not know how to traverse it. The man had ties with Powers but because of his magical ties there was no certainty that it was Powers who had commissioned him for this. It was a lead, though, it was something, and I’d take it.

                “We’ll drive to Powers’ apartment. We cannot be sure that he is the one who called for this to be done, but we should exhaust the options we know of before we leap to the fantastical.” Hendricks nodded.

                “Of course, Boss. Come on.” We got back into the car and Hendricks drove far more safely than I would’ve liked on our way there. My foot tapped against the car’s bottom restlessly and my fingers tapped along to the beat of the awful, mechanical sounding song that blared from the radio. Hendricks’ partner liked the stuff, however, and had forbidden him from ever touching the radio dial. The thought made me smile, if only for a few seconds.

                It seemed like hours before we finally pulled up to Powers’ apartment complex but it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. I knew better than most how much damage could be done in fifteen minutes. Hendricks clasped a hand on my shoulder before he slid an extra gun into his jacket and I did the same. We swept upstairs as swiftly as possible without looking as if we were planning on shooting the place up, which wasn’t nearly as swiftly as I’d have liked.

* * *

 

Harry’s POV

                His hands were shockingly rough. Of course that’s what I keyed in on, but it was a distraction, and I liked those. He’d obviously never done hard labor in his life, yet his hands were as rough as sandpaper where they touched me. Maybe they were gun calluses. I took a deep breath to steady myself as slid my jacket off of my shoulders and let it pool around my wrists, around the manacles. He smiled.

                “Such a pretty thing,” he said, “Shame Johnny interrupted us before. He’s not coming this time, though. Doesn’t know you’re here. How could he?” I’d assumed long before that one of Powers’ buttons was being ignored, and I love pushing peoples’ buttons, so that’s what I did. I bared his teeth and tore my t-shirt. Were I with someone I liked, someone I wanted, I’d have complained about liking that shirt. I didn’t, though. Instead I stayed stonily silent. He twisted me around and walked me backwards to his bedroom. His bed was soft but I didn’t focus on that. Instead, I concentrated on the ache in my wrists, the throb of my hand. His fingers teased at the waistband of my jeans but didn’t undo them. Instead he moved them up to stroke in wide motions across my chest. I felt bare with my coat around my wrists instead of over my shoulders. I closed my eyes because that helped to block him out. “Your skin is tingling,” he murmured, “Don’t you think this would be far better if you cooperated with me, Harry? I would like you to enjoy this as well; I’m not fond of simply taking my own pleasure. Come, be sweet with me?” The words made me think. If I was nice to him, if I played along, maybe he’d take the manacles off. I needed to get out of here. I was willing to try anything, and hell, if it didn’t work I’d still have my feet. I could kick him in the balls and run, find Slate himself and have him take the damn things off of me.”

                “Yeah,” I said, “Yeah.” I kept my voice as breathy and light as I dared and it made him shudder. His nails suddenly raked across my chest and raised thick red lines. I hissed and he smiled.

                “Good boy,” he whispered to me, his words wet against my ear. “You want to be good for me?” I nearly choked but I managed to get the word out.

                “Yes.” He nipped my ear and my jaw and then pulled away.

                “Kiss me, then, like you mean it. Prove to me that you’re telling the truth.” He smashed his lips against mine, hard and violent, almost painful, especially when his teeth bit at my bottom lip to get me to open my mouth. I did and he tasted like stale mints and coffee. It burned my tongue, but I returned his kiss, and who says I won’t compromise a little to save my ass? He pulled away with a really wet noise. “Good. Roll over for me,” he said, and I thought that maybe he was going to undo the manacles, so I did. His fingers slipped under my jeans and stroked over my skin lightly. He seemed to really like touching me although I couldn’t imagine why. I felt him push my jacket’s sleeves out of the way and then, yes, I heard the slide of a key, I heard them clicking off. He’d only barely managed to get the button of my jeans undone before he was flying off of me. Forzare really was my best friend.  I jumped off the bed and saluted him as he stood dizzily. At least I hadn’t killed him, I guess.

                “Do you have any idea how stupid you seem right now? I mean, _I_ outsmarted you. You really should stop letting all your blood go to your stupid head.” I left him with those final words of wisdom before I left his bedroom and ran smack dab into a wide chest. This chest was attached to a head that banged into my collar bones, which really hurt. I looked down at the eyes attached to the head that injured me and found them to be an odd shade of money green.

                “Harry,” Marcone said, and he sounded so relieved it almost hurt.

                “The one and only,” I said, and suddenly I was being hugged.

                “Damn it, Harry, you need to start wearing a tracker,” he hissed at me, and I wasn’t quite sure if he was joking or not. I laughed anyway and let him hug me, even wrapped one of my own arms around his shoulders. He really was a good man, kind of. Not good like Michael or good like the cops on SI, but he was a good man nonetheless, and he worried over me. I always appreciated that, honestly, and I guessed I could understand how he’d been nervous about what I was doing. I didn’t know how he knew I was here, though. Maybe he really had been there when I’d fallen into the Nevernever and I hadn’t just been hearing things. I realized suddenly, standing there with his arms around me and his voice mumbling nonsense into my chest, that I trusted him more than I’d thought.

                I trusted him to be around whether I wanted him to be or not. I trusted him to know when something was wrong. I trusted him to know where everyone and everything was. I trusted him to have my back. I trusted him to be strong. Much as I didn’t like to admit it, I trusted him to help me stay safe. All in all, I guess what I really trusted was that he’d love me no matter what, and you don’t know how amazing it is to know, to trust, something like that until you can. It’s a beautiful feeling. Maybe that was what was actually making me wrap both of my arms around him too. I could hear Powers finally getting up to his feet and staying there, though, so I broke the contact and ran back outside. They both followed me.

                “I guess you guys are coming along?” I asked, and Marcone laughed. His smile was quick and wild across his face, his fighter’s smile rather than his business man one, and I liked the way it seemed to light him up. I looked at him and had a thought that he was the one man who knew nearly everything there was to know about me, the one person who I’d told. The one who didn’t try to use my weakness against me, the one who comforted me. The one who came to save me even when I didn’t need saving, even when I didn’t want it. I flashed him my own smile in return.

                “Oh, Harry, we wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he said even though he had no way of knowing what ‘this’ was. He was in over his head too. I admired how he kept treading water. We all got into his car and I had them drive me back to the lake, where I summoned Lea again.

                “Stone Table,” I said, “I need to get there.” John was staring at me as I spoke with her and looked as if he wanted to come over. I held out my hand to stop him. Lea laughed.

                “I cannot; I may only place you near it.”

                “If it’s near enough that I can get there then I don’t care. All three of us.”

                “That’s a poor army,” she said. I shrugged.

                “They’re good enough.” She laughed again, louder this time, and waved a hand. She faded out of existence as we appeared close to the rim of a valley, but not before she left me with a nice parting shot.

                “You simply must remember to invite me to the wedding, my dearest godson.” I could hear the fighting where we stood, but I couldn’t see it. The space around us was empty but for four figures off in the far distance. One of the figures was perfectly, completely, totally still. A statue. A memory assaulted me suddenly, a memory of a stone face too accurate to be real, a stone face that matched too well to a real one I’d seen in a photo given to me by a green haired changeling named Meryl. That statue was Lily. Another piece fell into place as I strode forward; the Mantle must have entered Lily, and when Aurora turned her to stone it became invisible just as she did. I strode forward quickly enough that John (when did I start calling him that? I can’t remember) and Hendricks had to almost run to keep up. Long legs are a blessing sometimes. You know, rarely.

                Weird as it sounds, I was planning a sneak attack, but I probably should have known better. I’m hard to miss. I wasn’t expecting Elaine to be the one to notice me, though, the one to stop me in my tracks with a well-placed shield. I certainly wasn’t expecting the dark curl of her lips as she did it. John looked like he’d expected it, though, and he looked pissed that he had, pissed that he’d been right. Hendricks was blank faced. Slate was shocked.

                “I swear I had him contained, my Lady,” he babbled as Aurora turned her blazing eyes to him. He cowered. She stepped closer to him.

                “He does not appear contained.” I tried to go around Elaine’s shield, but she moved it with me. I cursed. I couldn’t throw an attack, I couldn’t. Even now I didn’t think I could bring myself to hurt her.

                “He should have a dick in his ass by now, damn it, I left him with someone who wanted him and he had Thorn Manacles on. He shouldn’t have gotten away.” I decided to break in there, which was probably pretty stupid since it drew their attention back to me.

                “I’m a master of the impossible,” I said, flapping my hands around in a nice magical manner. Aurora gestured vaguely and suddenly Slate was on Hendricks and Marcone, engaging and distracting them both.

                “Bind him, Elaine,” she said, and memories returned, memories of her blank eyed stare and her hands working magic to hold me still in DuMorne’s basement. She raised her hands and I watched Slate transfer his grip on Hendricks and Marcone to a large troll who held them steady and still. Aurora and Slate walked off towards the fray with the statue of Lily, but not before Aurora searched my pockets and slid the Unraveling free as she commanded the troll to hold its captives and make them watch me die. Elaine whispered a word and I felt the binding snap around me. Then it started to fill with water. John and Hendricks doubled in their struggles and Elaine winked at me and grinned a wide, face splitting grin. John snarled at her retreating back but I realized something and laughed loudly.

                “Now doesn’t seem like the time to be laughing, Dresden,” Hendricks bit out, obviously upset that he could be so outclassed in strength, but I just shook my head.

                “Elaine is a clever little bitch! Now is the perfect time to be laughing!” John growled and attempted to sink his teeth into the troll’s arm.

                “She’s drowning you and you are happy because she was clever enough to do it?” I shook my head happily, pleasantly.

                “Nope. I’m happy because I know this spell and because Elaine just saved our lives.” John raised his eyebrows.

                “You know it. How in the world would she know that, Harry? She was merely attempting to kill you. Are you still too trusting, too loving, to see that?” He sounded almost hysterical but I couldn’t help my smile.

                “She would know, Johnny, because this is our spell. We made it.” And I broke it seconds after saying that, made the binding dissolve like nothing. The water spilled out in a miniature tidal wave and I tested my hand at killing trolls again. It’s really gotten a whole lot easier now, as time has passed. I can’t help but be grateful for that. John and Hendricks brushed themselves off while I drew a quick circle and summoned Toot-Toot and his army of Dewdrop fairies armed with box cutters wrapped in orange plastic. My ace in the hole, my greatest weapon, and the largest of them was barely a foot tall. I ordered them to stay out of the fray, to hide as long as they could, and they obeyed without question because I was the ‘Za Lord and I supplied the pizza. I was doing so awesome and being so badass that I didn’t even need to comment on the weird looks John and Hendricks gave me when they saw my army. I mean, I might’ve muttered that the little pixies were a way better army than them so they shouldn’t look at me like that, but that’s just an outside possibility that doesn’t mean anything, honestly. It was at that point that we charged into battle, charged right to the Stone Table in the middle of the fray. I caught fleeting glimpses of Mab and Lea on the way, both of them bloody and armored, both of them goddesses in their element, up to their knees in death and tragedy. I tried not to look at them.

                Aurora was the only one standing by the table except for the statue of Lily, and I didn’t want to kill her. She looked so painfully young, so innocent. I wondered where Elaine and Slate had gone. She gazed at me threateningly, balefully, but I held up my hands to show that I didn’t want to fight. I had to stop John from pulling his gun in rage.

                “What a little cockroach. Can you not tell where you are unwanted?”

                “Why are you doing this, Aurora?” She laughed, bitter and cool, and pressed the Unraveling to the stone. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t; my voice was trapped in my throat.

                “To start a war, of course, to end this imbalance once and for all. I will free humanity of this never ending battle between seasons, I will stop the uncertainty!” I looked at the table and saw the muted blues creeping into the stones around it and suddenly I knew her plan. She intended to sacrifice Lily on the Stone Table, to force the power of the Summer Knight into Winter. She intended to make the whole thing come tumbling down, the whole balance. She intended to kill her own side. She intended to destroy the world even as she said she sought to save it, its mortals. Her eyes were bright with a certain insanity and I knew suddenly that reasoning with her wouldn’t work. I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t think I had a choice. I had a spell on my lips moments before Slate landed beside me, his sword at the ready, and the shock dropped my concentration. John and Hendricks couldn’t draw their weapons fast enough. I was going to die, I thought suddenly, die feeling the sting of a Winter blade as the Winter Emissary, but then a gigantic, shovel sized green hand knocked Slate back into the battle. I followed the arm up to a face, a face I knew, and it seemed that Meryl had made her Choice. She stomped along after where she’d thrown Slate but Fix stayed behind. I gave him a grateful smile and he returned it. My spell was on my lips again.

                “Fuego!” I cried, and a thick lance of flame burst from my hand towards Aurora. I realized only later how stupid that was of me. She was Summer, for god’s sake. I had no idea what I’d thought that would accomplish. Maybe a distraction, because that’s what it served as. It allowed Fix the opening he needed to rush forward and snatch Lily away. Although, I guess the bullets John was firing at her for me were helping too. Whatever. This was the opening, the chance, that I needed. Probably the only one I’d get, too. I called out the Dewdrops and they charged in, box cutters flailing, and they all swarmed onto Aurora. I heard a loud scream, nearer to a bellow, and looked around to see Meryl on the ground, Slate standing over her. Anger filled me and I rushed over, Fix behind me with Lily in his arms, John beside me and Hendricks behind us all. John somehow got off a clean shot while he was running and it hit Slate hard in the leg. He went down. Meryl was still close to dead by the time we got there and I felt something in me tell me to kill Slate. Meryl wasn’t the only one he’d killed, the only one he’d hurt.

                “Ace would know what to do,” I heard Fix murmur.   

                “Ace betrayed us, Fix,” Meryl whispered, “He left us, tried to kill us. We don’t need him, right? You and… you and Lily will be okay.” Fix was crying. I reached out and held him because I was too. I hadn’t known Meryl well, had hardly known her at all, actually, but I understood the kind of person she was. I understood what she fought for. I understood how she felt. She was a lot like me, all of these kids were, and that hurt. I hated Slate. Light flashed everywhere from no source and I saw something fly from Lily and into Fix, then saw something else flutter into Lily. What? I didn’t understand. At least, I didn’t at first, until I saw my Dewdrops coming back to me. Aurora was dead. Fix was the new Summer Knight, Lily the new Summer Lady. Meryl smiled once, kind and at peace and wonderful, and then she was dead. I screamed. John held me until I stopped and he saw me cry for… was it the fourth or fifth time now? I’d lost count. For the first time, though, I didn’t feel embarrassed about it.

* * *

 

                It took some time, but soon the word spread enough that Aurora was dead that the battle stopped. Mab came over and congratulated me, offered me the place as the Winter Knight as she glared in disgust at Slate. I almost felt bad for him, just then, for the first time, because I knew what Mab would do, I knew the torture she would instill. I didn’t actually get a chance to tell her no deal myself, though, because John pitched a knife at her and told her to stay the hell away from me. I worried for his life, but Mab just thought it adorable and offered him the job too. He appeared to be about to say something else stupid so I slapped hand over his mouth. I had the sneaking suspicion that this was how people felt around me all the time. Still, it works for me. It doesn’t on super controlled mobsters, though. Mab only continued laughing as she bent down and picked Slate up, threw him over her shoulder, and walked away.   
                Lily woke up shortly after and she and Fix were quick to begin comforting one another. I appreciated the care they displayed, appreciated the little family they made, and suddenly I had a leaf pin on my jacket that gave me a favor I could ask of Summer. I gave Fix another hug, then Lily hugged me and thanked me for saving her. I never thought I’d feel peace like that on a battlefield. It was so peaceful, in fact, that I just felt like kissing somebody. That would be exactly why I moved away from Lily and did just exactly that to John.

                Admittedly, it did get a little out of hand after the first three minutes, at which point he was groping me wildly and in a very teenager-in-the-backseat-of-a-car kind of way. Hendricks, bright red at the time, was the one who finally pulled us apart because some of the more voyeuristic Sidhe were apparently having way too much fun. I coughed.

                “That one of your, ‘you’re my friend’ kisses, Harry? If it is I really might have to get jealous,” he said, and his voice was husky. My heart twitched. Friend, it said. Lover, it said. Both, it said. Trust, it screamed. I don’t trust many people. A lot of people think I do, but I don’t. It’s just, the ones I do trust always know it because I show them so often. I don’t think John ever knew it all that well, but I’ve always trusted him. Well, maybe not always, but I have since the werewolves. John was a good man, in his way. A smart man in anyone’s way. He was funny and he was good to me and he loved me and I didn’t know if I loved him but I damn sure liked him a lot more than I’d ever thought.

                “Nope,” I said, “Don’t know what came over me, actually.

                “You love him,” I heard someone, heard Elaine, say. She walked over across the wreckage, twisting by the slowly leaving Sidhe. Lily and Fix had left long ago, I was pretty sure. She cocked her hip and smirked. John’s hand spasmed because apparently he would never like her.

                “Elaine,” I said, grinned, and she sighed.

                “Moron. You’re lucky that I-“ I interrupted her.

                “Luck had nothing to do with it. You care about me Elaine, same as I care about you. You might not always be honest with me but I’m not with you either. Despite all that, though, I know that you won’t just let me die, not like that, not if you can help it. I know that whether you do or not. Now, what were you babbling about love?” She pressed a hand to her forehead and Hendricks gave her this suspiciously sympathetic look.

                “You. Love. Him. I don’t know why; I think he’s sort of a dick, but you do. Just look at him. You two idiots are perfect for each other.” Hendricks looked like he was hearing a hallelujah chorus.

                “Huh?” She took another deep, frustrated breath, and then bent down to kiss me once, a gentle, barely there pressure. I didn’t feel anything, no mythical spark or whatever it is people go on about these days, but then, I didn’t expect to. John ripped me backwards, away from her, and glared so hard that it had to hurt his eyes.

                “I would appreciate it if you would cease doing that,” he said, and that made me laugh. He was trying so hard to sound in control of himself, to sound like he always did, but it really wasn’t working out. I stumbled up to my feet and dragged him with me.

                “I don’t know if she’s right, John, I really don’t. I know you love me, and I know I like you, like, a lot, but I don’t know if it’s love. I don’t say I love someone easily, I never have. I want to… we can try, though, you and me. I want to try.” That started up another round of kissing and Elaine and Hendricks both made this really interesting gagging noise that made me worry that they really were going to throw up. We left together and I’d gotten through another week, another day, another case. I’d gotten a new boyfriend. I’d saved a friend. I’d done a favor. I’d _gotten_ a favor. Things had gone wrong, yeah, a lot of them, and they were still making me ache, but I didn’t think I could ask for much else right now. Chances were my world was as perfect as it was going to get, for the time being. At least until I had to tell Murphy about all of this.

* * *

 

                A month passed by and somehow John and I were working. It was odd and strange and there were a lot of compromises, a lot of lengthy discussions about boundaries and rules and other weird stuff that never seems to show up in the romance movies, but we were working. It was hard to consider.

                Elaine had left shortly after despite me asking her to stay around, saying that she’d been inspired, that she wanted to go to California and start her own business. In the end I’d decided to be supportive, and I think her saying she wanted to leave was the first and only thing she ever said around John that made him smile. Hendricks, though, appeared something close to devastated at the loss of his apparent kindred spirit; the only one who understood all of the trials that he was forced to face in regards to me and John. I would’ve felt bad for him if he didn’t seem to think that the majority of these trials were mostly my fault, the dick.

                Michael was expectedly understanding, if a little disapproving of my choice at first. Still, when I brought John over with me for dinner he got to be subtly menacing at him as he cleaned his sword, which, much though he is loath to admit it, he loves to do. Usually for his own kids (mostly Molly), but still. I was glad I got to give him the opportunity, I guess, mostly because watching John squirm was really funny. Also, have you ever seen someone else’s mother give your significant other the mom talk? I have, now, thanks to Charity. I wasn’t her favorite person in the world, I knew that, and I both knew and accepted that I never would be because of some of the situations that I’d gotten Michael involved with, but she did care about me. She didn’t want me hurt. She proved that when she talked to John with a meat cleaver in her hand. I think John learned that he was not the only one with an intimate and skillful understanding of knives and other sharp pointy things that day.

                Murphy was decidedly less understanding and accepting when I told her. I got screamed at for the first three days, faced the silent treatment for two, and then I had to sit around and watch while John went through another shovel talk. The word prison got thrown around a lot, by the way. Anyway, John also got mysteriously and accidentally injured a lot for the first week that Murphy hung around with us, I have no idea why or how. He seemed to think that Murphy was behind it, though, and also that she was secretly a demon who had stolen a cheerleader’s body, but really that was just stupid. I winked at Murphy the next time I saw her and she beamed. John, shortly thereafter, somehow managed to trip on a totally flat floor where the only thing in his way was Murphy’s mysteriously appearing foot. I think it says a lot about how much he does care about me, love me, that he was willing to stay with me despite all this. Maybe that was what Murphy was checking for or maybe she just wanted to injure him. I don’t really know; there’s a fifty-fifty shot of it being either. Stones, for all I knew it was a mixture. My friends are good people, yeah, but they’re weird. And sometimes violent. Ahem.   

                I asked about where Powers was going to end up a few days after we got home, but John wouldn’t tell me, so I ended up going to Hendricks instead, since he was quickly becoming one of my favorite coconspirators. He, too, was unwilling to actually tell me what John had in the works, but after I threatened to call his partner (who’d taken to me oddly quickly, for some reason) and sic her on him he broke. Apparently the plan was Siberia. I really didn’t know if that was a joke or not, honestly, so I ended up having a really long conversation with both of them wherein I requested that he not die. John didn’t understand why, after he’d hurt me like he had, but it wasn’t like killing him would change anything. He wasn’t a good guy; I knew that, no matter what I’d thought in the beginning. He was an asshole. I didn’t want him around me and I didn’t want him to hurt anyone else, but I didn’t want him dead. John still didn’t really understand, but he accepted what I said. Instead he just got sent out of town and one of John’s friends in another city was assigned to keep an eye on him. I smiled at him for that and he no longer seemed to care that he’d lost that fight, that he didn’t really get where I was coming from. I remembered, at that moment, the first time we slept together and how he’d kissed the scratches Powers had made as if promising that no one but him would ever mark me like that again, even if that was a promise he couldn’t keep.    

                I say again, John and I work. I don’t know how; all logic says that if he and I are put in a room together we should spontaneously combust. We do, sometimes. We bicker and fight and argue and do all of that other stuff people say old married couples do, but we get over it, and we don’t have a serious disagreement very often. When we do, though, he’s just stubborn enough to get me to sit down and talk through it with him instead of just pinning it up and giving in. We don’t have our contract anymore, since that would be sort of silly, but I still sit with him, periodically, and just talk. He does the same with me, and we do it whenever either of us needs to vent. Strange as it sounds, we’re vulnerable to each other and I think that’s because we know we can be. We know that the other will understand. It’s nice, it works for us, it keeps us sane. He’s been steadily showing me through all of this that Elaine was right and I do love him. It’s a nice discovery to make, really.

                I think it’s strange, sometimes, waking up in his bed with Mouse lying on our feet and Mister sleeping on one or both of our faces. I think it’s surreal. I think it’s near enough to an episode of the Twilight Zone that it makes me a little nervous sometimes. Still, despite our bouts of butting heads and arguments, despite our combustibility, the world does not get pissed at us and fling us off. As a matter of fact, it continues to spin ever on, oblivious to the fact that we even exist. He even makes me breakfast most mornings, and that’s almost always enough to make me forgive him for anything, including things he hasn’t done yet. He’s lying beside me now, mostly asleep but still tracing patterns on my arm, and I smile because this is amazing, having a warm body who loves me lying beside me, this is beautiful and it makes me ecstatic. I slide down a little to prop my head on his shoulder and he presses a kiss into my hair. We’ll probably start bantering soon but right now it’s quiet. He mumbles that he loves me into my hair and I mumble the same into his shoulder, but I know we both heard one another. We live in a crazy world, he and I, a world full of monsters, but we face them together. We love each other, and despite all the random issues, we work. Hell’s Bells, we work. I smile and drift off to sleep because right now there’s nothing else to think about, nothing else to worry over. Until the next apocalypse, at least.                   


End file.
